The Brilliant Dance
by Blazing-moon
Summary: *CHAPTER 6* Title named after a Dashboard Confessional song :P Vidanrics POV, and it was just written out of pure inspiration. Starts off after they get to Athanarel/ Remalna-city/ r/r!!!!!!!
1. Default Chapter

**Unrequited**

She hated me. 

It tore me apart, every hour I wasn't with her, every day her gaze never met mine, every time her path never wandered around to me. Because she hated me. She couldn't stand to be me near me.

And I hated it.

It was redundant, everything I was saying and thinking lately. Usually I was articulate…but not around her. Countess Meliara Astiar of Tlanth would never love me, Vidanric Renselaeus, the Marquis of Shevraeth and possibly the next king.

I laughed at myself, in the small archive that was adjacent to the grand library. _That would be just like Mel…to not care about my rank, about anyone's rank._ I had known that as long as…as long as I loved her. 

I remembered when, after she had argued with me at Bran's-or maybe it was her own-table…it didn't change anything. She didn't find me more honest, or more approachable, although to be sure I felt more elated than I ever had in my life. I remember me asking her why…why she still hated me. And her answer was a simple, cutting, "I don't know."

Oh yeah…she just _couldn't_ keep her eyes off me.

She had no court mask, no silliness. She was…her. And that was more than this universe was composed of. She had stared at Galdran as if he were an insect under her foot, even though her life was threatened. She talked to me as if I was her neighbor, not the future king, although those talks were rare…just as well, for every time she spoke I wanted to catch her lips with mine.

So why hadn't I? That bet I made was because I knew I had a chance…the stake was out of foolishness. A kiss? It was stupid of me. And…when it had come time to collect, I wavered. She _really_ did hate me, with all her heart, our arguments were proof of that. If I had kissed her then, what good would it do? I made off as if she was too wet for me to kiss…but I would have gladly done it if she smelled like a cur. The problem was, she wouldn't.

I sighed and ran a hand through my loose fair hair, my silvery eyes glancing at the door, hoping she would walk in like she had done once before, occasionally thinking back to the time I dance with her. When the dreams faded out of my mind, I pulled the ring out of my pocket, fingering it with my hands. If I sent it to her, what would she think? That Russav had sent it? Probably. 

I grimaced.

I knew that I was the one who requested Russav to flirt a bit with her…at least it would keep the other ladies from slaying her. But what if she fell for him? The Duke of Savona had always been better at it than I…it was enough that I couldn't have her…but for my friend to have her in my place_? _I had to do _something._

Nodding to myself, I ran as quickly as I could-not bothering to get my manservant-down to get someone to deliver the ring to her. I didn't really want to think about what would happen _after_ she received it. Russav might have said that my cause wasn't hopeless…but that didn't mean I believed him. 

_She doesn't even call me by my true name,_ I thought bitterly.

________

The next day I felt like I was floating on air-though I'm sure my demeanor wouldn't suggest so, for my training in court had left me with an indecipherable (at best) expression. I'd only just begun to hate it and my court drawl though, ever since _Her. _I knew she hated it, along with everything else about me.

Not that that mattered. She had _worn _the ring.

_But_ I thought acidly, _she thinks it's from Russav._ I had seen the way she looked at him, and my heart hoped it wasn't with love, but it was most _certainly_ with interest…expectancy. There was one hope: Meliara was temperamental, rash, quick-witted and fire-tongued…but she was no fool. If there was ever any indication that Russav wasn't serious, she would pick up on it.

Well, that was what I told myself.

I unlocked the door to my chambers, and with a suddenly heavy heart, sat down on the bed, wondering when everything would stop. Yes, I admit I had _quite_ the taste for the melodramatic, but I just wished she would look me in the eye once in a while. 

Standing up to look outside my window that overlooked the courtyard, I glimpsed Lady Tamara walking across the gardens, then cringed and swiftly retreated by the chance she might see me and think I was gazing down at her. There was nothing _wrong_ with Tamara, but I still got a chilling sense of deception beneath her beauty.

_And why shouldn't I?_ I thought. It wasn't like I hadn't seen my share of power-hungry girls trying to court me, and that tally was most certainly doubled as my chance of becoming king increased. I had gotten used to it, immune to their charms. The problem _really_ was that half the court _expected_ me to marry her. As if it was her right and my privilege. I hope I had the courage to abandon grace and step on her pretty little foot the next time she danced with me.

A firm sense of distaste in my mouth, I went to my bureau and started toying with the white roses on it, doing my best to avoid the thorns. It was a game I used to play with Russav, to see who was quicker with their fingers, and therefore, their sword. With a sharp pain, a thorn pricked my right middle finger, and a single dollop of blood swelled and dropped onto the bureau. 

Well, I never was good at that game.

Smirking even while cursing, I wondered what my manservant would think of blood on wood. That's when I realized it _wasn't_ wood that it had dropped on. It was a letter. I picked it up carefully, my eyes narrowing…if anyone wanted to reach me, they could just…

That's when my heart stopped.

Guess whom it was from.

Oh, come on, _everyone_ knows it was from Meliara. I ripped it open; trying to calm myself…I hadn't acted this unconstrained since I was two. It was almost embarrassing.

But then I thought, to hell with constraints.

_The gifts are beautiful, and I thank you, but what do they mean? _The letter read.

_Mel, you dolt_, I thought, _they mean I _love_ you._

Well, I couldn't very well say that. She didn't even know the ring was from me, and if she did I'd wager she would run. And believe me, I rarely lost wagers. So instead I took a single white rose from the vase at my bureau, clipped the thorns off, and called my manservant.

My intentions were pure…purer than they had ever been. 

_______

The next time I saw or heard of Mel was at the Marquise of Merindars' gathering. I hadn't exactly expected to see her there, but once she was, I knew I should of. The Marquise was still playing her game, and I hoped-for personal and political reasons-that Mel wasn't caught in her trap. 

Turning my ears from the conversation of horses between Renna, Bran and Deric, I looked around the room, careful not to stare too long at Meliara. My pupils contracted and my eyes narrowed when they fell upon Lord Flauvic, the Marquises son. He was-and I can admit this freely-a handsome man. But more deadly than poison. There was no wonder in court why they called him 'the flower' in a tone that suggested dishonesty. But I saw more than that…Flauvic was more than he said, but not even I had the political grace, diplomacy or patience to find him out…and even then, I doubted he would be swayed. 

I also saw the way he looked at my Meliara. Like a hungry wolf, he glimpsed her through lowered lashes, and I was immediately put on guard.

Suddenly Lady Tamara took Mel but the arm and led her to the fireplace. I caught little snippets of conversation, "…show us the way at the races as well?" Lady Tamara was concealing irony behind her compliments, although it was plain to see. I saw Mel blush, and saw Deric support Tamara's cause unwittingly. Without warning my thoughts dove deep and I was consumed by the fact that Deric was courting Mel. Well…sort of.

I shook my head vigorously and scolded myself for acting like a jealous fool. Had years of court training for deceptiveness, placidness and an indifferent air eroded with one thought of one simple girl? I had catered to what the court asked of its people: fashion and flair…not that I had really wanted it. I had done it to be ordinary to the king I was trying to dethrone. If he actually found I was more than I seemed, I would become a threat, and it didn't matter if the rest of the court thought I was a fop. 

Until you-know-who stumbled into a trap set for me and sent my whole world spinning.

Suddenly I found all the training I'd worked so hard on to mask any colorfulness or emotion drip away whenever my thoughts wandered. It had become a fight to stay with that same airy demeanor…it wasn't as if I _liked_ my image in court when Galdran ruled, but now that I knew She hated it-and it, on the whole, was what caused Her mistrust in me-I really, truly loathed it.

I think I probably would have growled right then and there, if that same court training hadn't saved me (at least it was good for _something_). I just all of a sudden realized that I was actually in the Marquises house, and yet I was thinking like I was in my riding leathers with my hair down on a sunny day. It was crucial I stay diplomatic, and not detest the very skills that gave me that diplomacy.  

So to amuse myself I eavesdropped yet again on the conversation that was being had by Lady Tamara and Mel. "It transpires" Tamara was saying, "that our sharpest wits are also experts at the duel. Almost am I willing to rise at dawn, just to observe you at the cut and thrust."

_Oh life_ I thought, _What the hell is she trying to do?_

_._ Was she talking about me? No…I didn't think so. But I could tell there was _something._ The way Mel was looking at her also suggested her awareness and unwillingness to dance lightly with Tamara. The way Mel just smiled and sipped her tea confirmed it. I could have run up and kissed her then. She wasn't going to play any games-or more appropriately; traps-that Lady Tamara had set up. I resisted the urge to grin out right and settled for a small smirk and the uncontrollable glint in my eyes.

Fialmas' thin, wheezy voice drew me back, "Tamara, my love, that is not dueling, but mere swordplay."

Tamara put on a mock display of surprise. "True, true I had forgotten…an academic question: Is it a real duel when one is favored by the opponent?"

"Is it a real contest, say in a race when the better rider does not ride?" Fialmas' faint voice grated my ears, and I realized she was talking to me. Replaying her words in my head, I understood she was undermining Mel's natural talent for the sake of upgrading my cultivated one. Or she was just doing it to undermine anyone, which would be _classic_ Fialma.

"If a stake is won, it is a race. If the point draws blood, it is a duel," I tried to say it as indirectly as I could.

Fialma said something about honor and liberality that was probably another comment meant to undermine (big surprise), waved her fan for Intimate Confidence, and then sat down and shut up, like I wanted her to. 

I almost raised an eyebrow at my own aggressive thoughts, and bit my inner cheek. I guess just wished all these games and implied comments would end. Maybe if I were king, I would try that. I almost smiled slightly as I realized that would be more to Mels' tune than anyone else's.

When I came out of my thoughts (which today came on strongly and immersed me in them more completely than any other day) there was a joke that had been said-probably by Bran, who missed any insult or compliment unless it was brought to him face value, bless his soul-and everyone was laughing. Then the Marquise came and offered food.

I stood up and followed the others, but I couldn't help noticing the Marquise take Mel aside and lead her to a handsomely carved door. Meliara glanced at several people-including me, I thought with a rush as I tried to arrange my face in an unreadable way-before she disappeared behind the Marquise.

_Now _I had something to worry about. If the Marquise wasn't a slimy, conniving courtier, then I would also believe that Flauvic was as harmless as he looked. I glanced to the door, and wondered-not for the first time-what all the courtiers were saying to Mel, and if she believed any of it.

 Because if she did, it probably meant I _really_ did have my deepest love for an enemy. 

.


	2. The Affair Tamara

A/N: I am thoroughly astonished! I never expected to have such a surge of reviews, especially with something I did out of inspiration and didn't expect to finish! I'm so grateful to you guys! Lydiby, chava, Calzini, Andrea (who, by the way, is saying Shevraeth because she knows I hated it when Mel only called Vidanric Shevraeth. It's like calling someone Paris!) Nicole, Sanaria, Annje, CCD fan, Rael and Aylis (PLEASE tell me why you think Vidanric sound gay! :P Being Gay is not right for this fic ;)) Jj, me (hello me! :P), Mary, Saranha de Angelo, Calcifersgrl, Geniusgirl, Jalla, Angelprinczess29, chikki-g, Wild Mage, and Athena!

By the way, I WOULD have given you each a comment on your review (and most likely e-mailed you a thanks for those who didn't get one) but I wrote out all the comments, and it go deleted. After a day of writing this chapter, I don't want to have to go write that again. Plus it's hot :P In terms of the late update, I've had a toothache lately :P

Oh! I will, however, write the lyrics to The Brilliant Dance, because it was requested! Again, some verses remind me of what Vidanric had to go through to get Mel, but that doesn't really mean the WHOLE ENTIRE song does :P So take it with a grain of salt ^_^

_So this is odd,_

_The painful realization that has all gone wrong,_

_And nobody cares at all,_

_And nobody cares at all._

_So you buried all your lover's clothes_

_And burned the letters your lover wrote,_

_But does it make it any better?_

_And the plaster dented from your fist_

_In the hall where you had your first kiss_

_Reminds you that the memories will fade._

_So this is strange,_

_Our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance_

_Where nobody leads at all,_

_Where nobody leads at all._

_And the picture frames are facing down_

_And the ringing from this empty sound_

_Is deafening and keeping you from sleep._

_And breathing is a foreign task_

_And thinking's just too much to ask_

_And you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights._

_This is incredible._

_Starving, insatiable,_

_Yes, this is love for the first time._

_Well you'd like to think you were invincible._

_Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time?_

_Well this is the last time._

Maybe you didn't understand that this song is about breaking up and the grief you feel after it :P not exactly something Vidanric had to go through. But the frustration of it all, I think shows through. Also the verse _So this is strange ,our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance where nobody leads at all, where nobody leads at all._ Seems to be like the confusion they must have felt, trying to figure on another out. The last verse also strikes a chord with me in terms of the story, but I'm not _quite_ sure why, so I'll let you decide for youselves ^_^

Chapter 2: The Affair Tamara 

After the Marquises gathering, I arrived at my rooms and lay on my bed, unable to sleep. Mel had promised me once before that she would not try to obtain the crown, and I _valued_ that. At the same time, I had to reason with the Marquises skills of persuasion.

Was it possible that I was letting my admiration for the Countess of Tlanth blind me?

I'm not sure how long I tossed and turned, listening to the gentle rain tap along the ground, but when there was a soft knock on my door and my manservant Sirkar walked in, a graciously took the distraction.

He handed me a letter and, my heart thumping in my chest, I excused him. She must have written it only a few minutes ago…which meant she was having some trouble sleeping as well. 

The letter read:

_Dear Unknown,_

_You probably won't want to answer a letter, but I need some advice on court etiquette, without my asking be noised around, and who could be more closemouthed than you? Let's say I was at a party, and a high-ranking lady approached me-_

I breathed a sigh of relief, and flung myself on my bed. Thank the _Lord_ for Mel's wits. I was still unsure about whether Mel would believe the Marquise of Merindar, but at the very least she wanted to know what she was getting into.

It might have been my insomnia attacking me, but a had a strange idea. Unlocking my bookshelf, I scanned bindings, before my eyes rested on the one I wanted. Pulling it out, I looked for a particular passage I had read at a young age and remembered forever after. It might not mean anything to Mel, but to me this particular part of the memoir by the Duchess Nirth Masharlias represented the way to deal with an attacker-with humour and wit. 

…_and though the Count spoke strictly with Accordance and with Etiquette, his words were an Affront, for he knew my thoughts on Courtship for Married Persons…_

It went on to describe the way the Duchess challenged him to a mock duel, and in doing so, politely and without disrupt discouraged any further advances.

But would she understand that much?

Whether she would or wouldn't was half the fun, I suppose. Another truth to the fact that I was sending her a book instead of a true letter I attributed to my confusion. I didn't understand exactly why she wanted me, an admirer she knew only through text, to guide her. She did not know who I was (and if she did she most certainly would not be having this topic of conversation with me), and so I found it hard to reply without bringing my own opinions in.

Just as I was about to mark the passage with a scrap piece of parchment, a flower slipped out of the envelope she had sent me, and fell to the floor. As I picked it up, I realized it was a starliss-or Queensblossom, symbolic for ambition.

It also didn't escape me that the Marquise of Merindar had them sprouting up all around her 'humble abode', or that Mel left with the flower in her hair.

Not quite sure why she had sent me it, I plucked a petal off it nonetheless and used it to mark the passage instead. Placing the book on my dresser, I left a note for Sirkar to attend to it in the morning.

And just like that, I feel into the easiest sleep of my life.

­­­­­­­­­_______

Late the next morning I received another letter from Mel. Childish as it sounds, it made me happy to have her responding eagerly. But what exactly is wrong with that? These days, there's very little I care about when concerning politics, not like I used to anyway. If I want to be childish, if I want to be smitten, if I want to be truthful and honest, however blunt-as opposed to roundabout and at times deceitful-why can't I? My mother has reprimanded me several times on this new outlook, and I can't help but see her view. As a would-be king, I have to behave like one. Not like a human, however ridiculous that may sound.

But there are times…

Coming back to reality, I looked down at the letter, and opened it carefully.

_Dear Mysterious Benefactor,_

_I read the pages you marked, and though I was greatly diverted, the connection between this story and my own dilemma leaves me more confused than before. Would you advise my young lady to act the fool to the high-ranking lady-or are you hinting that the young one already has? Or is it merely a suggestion that she follow the duchess's example and ward of the high-ranking lady's hints with a joke duel?_

_If you've figured out that this is a real situation and not a mental exercise, then you should also know that I promised someone important that I would not let myself get involved in political brangles; and I wish most straightly to keep this promise. Truth to tell, if you have insights that I have not-and it's obvious that you do-in this dilemma I'd rather have plain discourse than gifts._

Well…needless to say I was a bit taken aback, but very pleased. This was _Mel._ Blunt, to the point-perfect in her own way. Maybe she wasn't perfect in a court way-but there was something about her.

I wanted to write her back then and there, but I had to be at the sword fighting practice in a matter of minutes. Getting dressed, I walked down to the courts, to meet with Russav. As soon as I appeared on the courts, however, one of my spies discreetly signaled me from another court, and I walked over, feinting an invitation to practice. 

The man, who was slight and shifty, came up to me and said in a low voice that wasn't as suspicious as a whisper, "Countess Meliara Astiar of Tlanth has been spotted at the estate of Lord Flauvic of Merindar."

Well. 

That _could_ present a problem. I had been watching the Merindar's house casually for quite a long time, as I wouldn't trust them for anything. But Mel there? I doubted she was plotting with him-for her letters revealed her hesitancy, and 'plotting' wasn't even the proper word to describe what Mel would do-but it _could_ evolve. Why else would he be called the flower?

I nodded to the man, and dismissed him discreetly. He had been one of my good friends when I was younger, and so he was one of the few spies I could afford to be seen with in public. As I walked back to Russav, he looked at me quizzically, and I explained the dilemma.

"Well, what are you going to do? It's not _that_ big of deal, as I can't seriously believe Meliara would do something as drastic as" he swallowed the thought and continued on a new thread, "but Flauvic is…well, we all know what he is."

 I shrugged at Russav; "I suppose we should pay him a visit, then."

Russav smiled teasingly, "Not jealous, are you, Danric?"

I smiled slightly, but inside my head was spinning. Were my affections for her once again getting in the way of my perception? Or now, on the completely opposite side, would I become jealous of her relationship with Flauvic and start making up false accusations in my head?

Life, it was all too damn complicated. 

Politics are what the court is made of. I had been taught that all my life. At this time, I needed to stop following my heart and think with my mind. Otherwise, I was going to do something very stupid and the Merindars were going to do something very wrong. 

So Russav and I took a little 'ride' in the direction of Flauvic's estate. As we saw Flauvic and Mel walking down the path of his courtyard, we brought our horses up to a trot, before greeting Flauvic. As I stole a glance at Mel, her face was unreadable - blank, and she gave us a silent, deadpan curtsy.

After a few subtle threats disguised as superfluous compliments, Russav and I tore Mel away from him and began to escort her back to the Residence, each of us dismounting from our horses and walking on either side of her. 

After a moment, Mel piped up. "Please don't think you have to change your direction for my sake. I'm just out wandering about, and my steps took me past Merindar House."

I got a little uneasy at this comment, for it was clear she knew partly what we were up to. "And lose an opportunity to engage in converse without your usual crowd of swains?" Russav had saved my speechlessness around the countess with his free-flowing mouth once again. And I, once again, felt like a fool.

"Crowd? Swains?" She repeated, laughter bubbling up from her beautiful throat, "Has the rain affected your vision? Or am I the blind one? I don't see any swains. Just as well, too."

I couldn't help myself. Although I tried to disguise it as a cough, my laugh was unmistakable. "I don't mean you two!" Mel added hastily, and looked up at Russav (I couldn't help thinking it was because she didn't want to look at me.)

"About you lack of swains," Russav said quietly, "Deric would be desolated to hear your heartless glee."

Mel grinned widely, "I suspect he'd be desolated if I thought him half-serious."

For some odd reason, my heart jumped at the words, unwillingly. It confirmed that she did not feel Russav was as serious as he could have let on, and it was comforting to hear those words from her mouth-even if it was a stupid thing to worry about.

"-The very moment I heard you had pinched a chicken pie from under Nenthar Debegri's twitchy nose, then rode off on his favorite mount, getting clean away from three ridings off his hand picked warriors."

Despite the wanderings of my mind, I caught up to Russav's mock indignation of her hints that she was on to him. I also couldn't help take a sharp intake of breath, for the instance he was talking about happened to be the one in which he discovered my love for her – and consequently, the rest of my servants.

As she laughed, Russav jested a bit more with her, "Now don't – _please_ don't – destroy my faith in heroism by telling me it's not true."

"Oh, it's true enough, but heroic?" she scoffed, even while laughing, "What's so heroic about that? I was hungry! Only got one bite of the pie-"

As we both started laughing, Mel looked a bit bewildered, and I realized she hadn't really meant it as a joke – which seemed to only make me laugh harder.

"And then you compounded your attractions by keeping my cousin on the hop for days." Russav continued, indicating me, proving that even he could falter with one simple sentence – if indeed it was a mistake, and not deliberate.

What was I supposed to say? I never understood how to deal with that old uncertainty, and in bringing it up I saw her stiffen and her laughter vanish. At those times, in her mind, (and possibly still in the present) I was no better than Galdran's filthy cousin Baron Debegri. I was one and the same with the man that tried to capture her – and indeed in court politics I made no denial to it – although my intentions were quite the opposite. All I represented to her was a court-spoiled, conniving Marquis when I stood next to the Baron – and I was having a difficult time erasing that residue. Life…that might be _all_ I was.

The thing that astonished me was that, as wary as she was around me, she was _ashamed_ of herself.

The forced lightness of her voice was apparent as she said, "On the contrary, it was he who kept me on the hop for days." And then, to my dismay, added quietly, "very long days."

I took a deep intake of breath, and suddenly her gaze was on mine as she asked, "When you said to search the houses. In the lake town. Did you know I was inside one?"

Swallowing hard, I searched Russav's face, willing the mouth that brought along this conversation to be sewed up. He just grinned.

Attempting to make coherent words out of my once articulate mouth that now felt like a pile of sand, I choked out, "I…had a sense of it." Oh. I astonished her with my wit.

"And outside Thorsek. When you and Debegri rode by. You looked right at me. Did you know it was me?"

Mel, you have _red hair._ No matter how hard you try, or how high you pin it up, it will _show_. Plus the small fact I had been memorizing your face. But I doubt the outcome would be as satisfactory as I wanted it to be if I said that. 

Instead, I felt a deep foreboding that _whatever_ I said would only make her angry, and (if possible) drive her further away. Life! In the beginning, all I wanted to do was intimidate her, not kill her or Bran. In the middle, I wanted to _help_ her…and now…well, you know. Was my cause, as Russav said, not lost in hopelessness? …I hoped so. But it didn't help me right now. 

Turning to her, the words I attempted to conceal with a court drawl dropped out of my mouth heavily, and I braced myself, "Will it make you very angry if I admit that I did? But the timing seemed inopportune for us to, ah, reacquaint ourselves."

She sighed, "I'm not angry. I know you weren't trying to get me killed, but to keep me from getting killed by Debegri and Galdran's people. Except - well, never mind. The whole thing is stupid."

I breathed an inner sigh of relief. Russav, seeing this and finally letting his game drop, said quickly, "Come then, forgive me for straying into memories you'd rather leave behind, and let us instead discuss tonight's prospective delights."

His voice slowly droned on, and I was left with an unpleasant buzz in my ears. Despite my efforts to push it away from my mind, something in me knew that the Merindar's were up to something - and Flauvic, although his involvement was questionable, was also a grave danger to the well being of Athanarel. But I would just have to wait. I _wanted_ to wait. These feelings of court politics playing over my mind like a chess match came frequently and without warning, and today I really didn't want to think about it.

But then as I saw Tamara strolling up the same pathway in the opposite direction, I wished that court politics were all I had to deal with. I greeted her, and moved over to make room, all as politely as etiquette that had been drilled into me (and consequently was as much a part of me as my silent – if fruitless – rebellion to it) decreed.

After several minutes of idle talk, in which Tamara made sure she was the focus of, the lady turned to Mel, and with a tone of friendliness I knew immediately as mischief, said politely, "You did promise me, my dear Countess, a little of your time. I think I will hold you to that promise."

Promise? I tried to remember a conversation where Mel had promised Tamara _anything_. Although I couldn't, I assumed it was probably of no consequence. If Tamara was planning something - which I undoubtedly knew she was – Mel could take care of herself.

"I – well –" Mel stumbled, failing mildly to disguise the reluctance and wariness in her voice, "I think – that is, if I haven't forgotten – "

Tamara simply continued on, talking to Russav, "You'll have the evening free?"

Now _this_ was possibly the only intrigue I had ever taken interest in. To explain it shortly, Tamara, perpetually power-hungry, took an interest in my cousin at an early age. Yet, over the years, it's my belief that it developed into something more – possibly on both sides. Although as soon as I had a chance at being king, that old trait in Tamara sparked up again, and suddenly she started (vainly, I might add) going after me. Something, I believe, both parties are unhappy about. Not that either of them will admit it. Frankly, I don't know what he sees in her, but they were an odd match from the beginning.

Which is why, when Russav bowed rather dryly to her, Tamara got a little – disturbed, I should put it. Well, disturbed the way a courtier gets disturbed: stiff lips, and narrow eyes. Briefly and only for a moment, of course.

Subtly dismissing Russav, she turned her gaze onto me, "And you, Vidanric?"

"Regrettably, my mother has a previous claim on me." Which was true. As much as I wanted to go and survey what she had planned, my mother is…quite persuasive in her requests. Add that to the fact that Mel rarely – if ever – is around my at informal social events, if she can help it.

Tamara sketched a curtsy, and turned back to Mel. "I'll invite a few more of your many friends. Do not distress me with a refusal."

Well…how was she supposed to get around that?  With a resolve of politeness she said "Of course. Be delighted."

She curtsied again, and, her mission over, began talking casually about the latest play and her opinions on it. After several minutes, Mel turned to us and said hastily, "I fear I have to leave you all now. Good day!"

She swept a general curtsy, and fled. Why? I have no clue.

_________

When I returned to my rooms that afternoon, I picked up the letter again and read it. Sighing even while smiling, I began penning my reply. After a short time it was finished, for I found my thoughts to flow freely – although they were simply thoughts of a neutral mentor – whenever I wrote a letter to her.

_My Dear Countess, _

_You say you would prefer discourse to gifts. I am yours to command. I will confess my hesitancy was due largely to my own confusion. It seems, from my vantage anyway, that you are surrounded by people in whom you could confide and from whom you could obtain excellent advice. Your turning to a faceless stranger for both could be attributed to a taste for the idiosyncratic if not to mere caprice._

I cringed slightly at the comment, unsure whether it was too frank. Yet, I should not offend her or slight her wishes by not telling her the reality of the matter. In truth, I did not know why she didn't talk to someone around her she knew – as opposed to an Unknown. At the same time, I saw the reason.

Deciding to leave it, I picked up my quill and penned the rest:

But I am willing to serve as foil, if foil you require. Judging from what you reported of your conversation with your lady of high rank, the insights you requested are these: First, with regard to her hint that someone else in power lied about rendering assistance at a crucial moment the year previous, you will not see either contender for power with any clarity until you ascertain which of them is telling the truth.

_Second, she wishes to attach you to her cause. From my limited understanding of said lady, I suspect she would not so bestir herself unless she believed you to be, at least potentially, a position of influence._

Lying back, I surveyed my writing. I had tried to maintain the neutrality she had sought after, even though I, in my assumptions, was the figure at the other end of the spectrum, opposite the Marquise of Merindar. It was difficult, but that was what court training was for, and I truly believed Mel deserved unbiased advice.

I folded the letter and sealed it, leaving it on the table. I no longer needed to notify Sirkar, for by now he was familiar with the exchanges.

_________

My mother and father's estate was beautiful, as usual, and I spent the night conversing pleasantly with them. I was also eagerly awaiting my arrival at the Residence as we said our good-byes and I mounted my horse. There was anxiousness in discovering exactly what Tamara had set up, and how it had played out.

As I rode up to the Residence, and into my suite at the Right Wing, I waited for a report from Russav about the party. There were two letters on my dresser – one from Mel and one from Lady Elenet. 

Although I wanted to open the one from Mel first, my duty took over. Elenet was a good friend of mine, but I was sure her letter was of business. We had been corresponding recently over the possibility of her presence being shown at court, for her uncle, Duke Grumareth, had recently 'gone down with a sickness' that seemed to me to be a bit more than just the usual excuse to leave. Her person at court would create a warning. This letter was just outlining her potential trip, where and for how long she would stay.

I picked up the letter from Mel, and was about to open it, when Sirkar knocked on the door. 

As I looked up he said, "The Duke of Savona is here to see you – I assume you were expecting him."

I nodded, anticipation trickling through my veins, and Sirkar left to fetch him. When he entered the room, his expression was taut, worried – and even outraged. My stomach curled up into a knot of tightness and I attempted to not let the sickness show on my face. "What of Tamara's gathering?" I said tautly.

"What of it?" Russav repeated, only with a degree of anger several times higher than my query. "That stupid, power-hungry girl got Meliara _drunk_. Drunk! And on substances the Countess would have had absolutely no previous experience with!" He sighed, "Danric, I knew she was up to something – something low – but…this? It's hardly deserving – even of her!"

Feeling as if I was sinking through the ground, I said to him vaguely, trying to convince myself more than him "Russ, would you stop? And think about it? I'm willing to wager my estate and horse that our dear Lady Tamara served those 'substances' as you called it, right into the hands of Mel, _and_ that all members of the party were – or are now – aware of the Countess' ignorance toward the…potency."

Russav ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose you're right, Danric. I also suppose, considering those circumstances, Tamara is the one who will be having trouble tomorrow. As well, I escorted Meliara home, and therefore I believe my influence will be placed on her." He smiled wryly, "yet again, my temper has gotten the best of me – but you have always known how the Lady Tamara and I quarrel – it's as if I war has been initiated!"

I smiled half-heartedly. Their fights _were_ court-renowned. But I was still worried about Mel. Looking up at him, I said quietly, "Thank-you for taking her to her rooms. Would it be possible to write her an invitation to a gathering tomorrow? – I'm sure she will take the hint that since certain persons won't be present, she is not to blame herself for what went on tonight, as I'm sure she will."

 "I've already thought of it." Russav smiled, and bowed his way out.

Sighing and rubbing my temples, I sat down in a chair and picked up the letter again. I knew _exactly_ why Tamara did this. Mel was a threat for two reasons: Tamara had a hint that I had more than a political interest in the Countess (as the rest of the court had the same hint) and so it defeated her purpose of seducing me. As well, Russav, with whom she had an odd sort of courtship initiated, was flirting with Mel. Tamara couldn't see that it wasn't (what I considered) a true courtship, or that Russav's advances were no more than flattery.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the letter. 

_Dear Unknown,_

_The only foil – actually, fool – here is me, which isn't any pleasure to write. But I don't want to talk about my past mistakes, I just want to avoid making the same or like ones in the future. Your advice about the event of last year (an escape) I thought of already and have begun my investigation. As for the putative position of power, it's just that. I expect you're being confused by my _proximity_ to power – my brother being friend to the possible king and my living here in the Residence. But believe me, no one could possibly be more ignorant or less influential than I_.

What _was_ she talking about? "No one could possibly be more ignorant or less influential than I." Mel, you are _gravely_ mistaken. I would never dare to call her ignorant, and I would completely oppose her judgment of the degree of influence she had. Did she not realize most of the court was half in love with her?

But at the moment, that wasn't what I wanted to get across to her. When she woke tomorrow morning, (albeit with a raging headache) I knew without trying that she would somehow manage to turn everything – every possible blame – toward herself. Russav's letter and invitation would certainly help, but I couldn't avoid myself wanting to be a part of rebuilding her confidence. Because of this, well into the night, I sat down and penned a sort of response.

Meliara– 

_In keeping faith with your stated desire to have the truth of my observations, permit me to observe that you have a remarkable ability to win partisans. If you choose to dismiss this gift and believe yourself powerless, then of course you are powerless; but the potential is still there – you are merely pushing it away with both hands._

_Ignorance, if you will honor me with permission to take issue with your words, is a matter of definition – or possibly degree. To be aware of one's lack of knowledge is to be merely untutored, a state that you seem to be aggressively attempting to change. A true ignorant is unaware of this lack._

_To bring our discourse from the general to the specific, I offer my congratulation in the Affair Tamara. She intended to do you ill. You apparently didn't see it, or appeared not to see it. It was most effective – perhaps the only effective – means of scouting her plans for your undoing. Now her reputation is in your hands. _

_This is not evidence of lack of influence._

It took me quite a while to write all of my feelings – which were tied up like knots in the pit of my stomach. Because of this, promptly after folding, sealing and placing it on my table, I lay down on my bed and slept an exhausted, frustrated and distraught sleep.

_______

The next morning I penned a letter to Elenet, looked for a response letter from Mel and awaited anxiously any news or sign of Tamara. I strolled remote places of Athanarel restlessly in the early morning, before going back to my rooms and pacing there instead. I didn't know if news of the Affair Tamara would reach me by my servants, (who, I might add, have been determinedly trying to push Mel and me together) or by word of mouth. 

Just then Sirkar walked in and handed me a letter. I dismissed him, slightly abashed at the sly smile on his face and opened it.

I'll tell you what conclusion I've reached after a morning's thought, and it's this: that people are not diamonds, and ought not to be imitating them.

_I've been working hard at assuming Court polish, but the more I learn about what really goes on behind the pretty voices and waving fans and graceful bows, the more I comprehend that what is really said matter little, so long as the manner in which it is said pleases. I understand it, but I don't like it. Were I truly influential, then I would halt this foolishness that decrees that in Court one cannot be sick; that to admit you are sick is really to admit political or social or romantic defeat; that to admit any emotions usually means one really feels the opposite. It is a terrible kind of falsehood that people can only claim feelings as a kind of social weapon._

Apparently some people thought it took amazing courage to admit that I was drunk, when it was a mere unthinking truth. This is sad. But I'm not about to pride myself on telling the truth. Reacting without thinking – even if I spoke what I thought was true – has gotten me into some nasty situations during the recent year. This requires more thought. In the meantime, what think you?

I was unsure how to answer it, since I still did not know what she was going to do about Tamara. What if I offended her? So I took a deep breath and penned a short reply.

You ask what I think, and I will tell you that I admire without reservation your ability to solve your problems in a manner unforeseen by any, including those who consider themselves far more clever than you.

That was all I could manage to write at that moment. I sent it with Sirkar to courier it, and began pacing again. 

Which was when I looked out the window, and there were Mel and Tamara, talking in a subdued matter, as if the night before had never happened.

 I stood there for a moment, my mouth wide, my mind floored, so that I did not have the state of mind or physical power (for I felt like water) to pull myself together.

As I retreated from the window, I shook it off as best as I could. This meant…this meant Mel had gone to her, forgiven her…and Tamara had been saved. I couldn't help the smile from breaking over my face. _She could take care of herself_. She had dealt with this situation in a way very few could truthfully admit likeness to.

And I was even more floored than before.

Suddenly, all my anger for Tamara dissolved in to one compact ball in my chest. If Mel could forgive her, couldn't I? Couldn't Russav? I was reminded of when we were children, being taught to be just what Tamara was. But behind that, weren't we all like Mel and Bran? Courtiers, high society, deceitful at times, but people nonetheless. Tamara was power hungry, but a grand portion of her intentions were out of jealously of love. She wasn't a model person (despite her rank at being a model courtier), but she was better than what I had made her out to be.

Well, Mel certainly was different than her brother. He is a dear friend…but I must admit, _no one_ makes me think like that, and change opinions so rapidly. I was…awed. Touched. I was also finding it extremely hard to believe it.

Suddenly I wished I had waited one more minute to pen that letter. 

______

When I received another letter from Mel that day, I eagerly opened it.

Today I have come to two realizations. Now, I well realize that every courtier in Athanarel probably saw all this by their tenth year. Nonetheless, I think I finally see the home-thrust of politics. Everyone who has an interest in such things seems to be waiting for me to make some sort of capital with respect to the situation with Tamara, and won't they be surprised when I do nothing at all!

_Truth to say, I hold no grudge against Tamara. I'd have to be a might hypocrite to fault her for wishing to become queen, when I tried to do the same a year back – though I really think her heart lies elsewhere – and if I am right, I got in her way yet again._

_Which brings me to my second insight: that Savona's flirtation is just that, and not a courtship. The way I define courtship is that one befriends the other, tried to become a companion and not just a lover. I can't see why he so exerted himself to seek me out, but I can't complain, for I am morally certain that his interest is a good part of what made me popular. (Though this all could end tomorrow.)_

I smiled to myself. Her insights of courtship lay somewhere along the same line as mine- and for that reason, I intended to seek out her friendship through letters, instead of embarking upon the near impossible task (at the moment) of doing it in person.

Encouraged by this, I sat down and wrote yet another letter, just before I went to a gathering at the Marquise's (to which, gratefully, Mel was not invited. I hoped this meant that the Marquise had backed off.)

I can agree with your assessment of the ideal courtship, but I believe you err when you assume that everyone at Court has known the difference from age ten – or indeed, any age. There are those who will never perceive the difference, and then there are some who are aware to some degree of the difference but choose not to heed it. I need hardly ass that the motivation her is usually lust for money or power, more than for the individual's personal charm. 

But I digress. To return to your subject, do you truly believe, then, that those who court must find themselves of one mind in all things? Must they study deeply and approve each other's views on important subjects before they can risk contemplating marriage?

I looked at the last line, thoroughly satisfied with the thought. For there were _many_ things I did not agree with when it came to Mel…and yet that was what ardently made me half-mad in love with her.


	3. I can't think of a name Blah

DISCALIMER: (sine I've forgotten for the past TWO chapters!) I do not own any of the characters in this story, or the plot or anything else I may forget. They are all copyright Sherwood Smith, in all her wonderful glory. 

A/N: Sorry, sorry, and more apologies than I can muster for putting this up so late. I just wanted to get my other chapters up, which is why I've taken so long writing this! Because of that, I'm going to thank you all individually and answer questions, after the chapter is over. Oh, or some STUPID reason, the italics didn't work all the way for the last chapter. *****crosses fingers* let's hope this one's okay!

Just one more note. This is just an interpretation of Vidanric's thoughts…I could seriously mess up something about them, because I didn't _create_ him. I'd love to hear what other people think (or thought) Vidanric would have done, it would give me another view into the story…and it could be more accurate to maybe what Sherwood Smith thought :)

Oh! One more thing! This, and all the other stories I update today, are dedicated to my sister, Andrea. I know you wanted to go to Nationals An, and you wanted to be on our team to do that, but just be patient! I prrrooomiiise you it's not going to be great! (there's my little 'partying' ethic that will get in the way :P) plus, maybe you can come!!!

**Chapter 3:**

The Marquise's gathering was what I expected. I returned form it more jumpy and suspicious than I had ever been around her. My spies had circulated her, and her offspring, but so far they could only tell bits and pieces. And it was _frustrating_.

When I arrived at my rooms, I loosed my pale hair, pausing only to run my hands through it nervously before falling into an unsatisfying sleep. I didn't know what to do, how I was going to do it, or what would happen if I did. Elenet would arrive soon, and once she did, I would be forced to do _something_. And without knowing what the hell I was doing, it would be a disaster.

Needless to say, when I woke up in the morning, it was late, and induced by the prodding of the ever-thoughtful Sirkar. I dressed, tied up my hair, and prodded my sleepy gray eyes to make it seem as if I had actually been doing something more productive than restlessly dreaming. 

Throughout the day I did things I didn't want to do, with an increasingly foul mood. So by the time I got back to my chambers in the late afternoon, the spy waiting for me at the entrance was not a pleasant surprise.

Sirkar admitted him into the sitting room, following me. As we sat, the spy looked distraught, and I was plummeted into uncertainty. "Report," I said reluctantly, leaning back for support on the couch.

The man – part of my regime at Renselaeus – fingered a simple gold ring on his right hand nervously. "There are two things. One, The Marquise has gone  home to the family's estates."

I looked at him with incredulity, "I know that the news brings suspicious tidings, but it hardly deserves the ominous tone you give it!" If that was all there was, I could easily have it looked into to. Or perhaps it _was_ bad, and I was just so glad to not have worse tidings.

"I said there were two things." He said to me quietly, and my heart stopped. "The Countess Meliara Astiar of Tlanth was spotted at the residence…and evidence suggests she has entered into a dalliance with Lord Flauvic."

My throat tightened and my breath came in short rasps. I lowered my eyes and but my lip, but I knew I had to speak. In a slow, forced voice I asked, "What…sort of evidence?"

"She was seen kissing him."

"Did she break away?" I hoped it didn't sound pathetic, but it was a slim chance that my comments were even in the guise of being nonchalant. Every single one of my servants knew my partiality.

The spy thought for a moment, a half smile on his face. He turned back to me, "I believe she did."

As my heart leapt, I cursed myself. I couldn't brush this off because I wanted it never to have happened. Did this mean she had chosen the Marquise? Or if she hadn't, was Flauvic going to lead her to that path? I had to watch her, and I had to make the right decision if the relation progressed. I knew of the letter the Marquise sent, I knew she wanted Mel on her cause. It was all set up perfectly: Mel only had to topple one way or the other, and my way wasn't looking too good. I had to forget about partiality. 

Worst of all, I had to believe in the worst-case scenario: Mel loved Flauvic.

I thanked the spy, and dismissed him, all distantly. It was only when I sat down that I realized Mel had written me a letter. I numbly opened it, and leaned back on the couch to read it.

The millions of ideas and hopes that flowed into phrases my made heart plummet over and over again. She talked to me like no one ever had, and it was all through text. If only I could hear the words from her lips, see the honest intent in here eyes! Maybe then I would be assured she was on my side. I felt wounded, reading these words and thinking of what she had done with Flauvic. 

When I finished the letter, I had finally come to a conclusion. Whatever I may do as a diplomat, what I did as a person would _always_ overcome it. I could not suppress my feelings, nor could I diminish the hope that since Mel pulled away she did not want any part of the kiss. Because of that doubt, I decided that until otherwise noted, I would act as if it never happened.

Ah yes, denial was a wonderful thing.

I took the letters down to the library, and then through to my haven, where the memoirs were kept. The room was subtle, and soothing. The blank pieces of parchment were calling me to fill them with every thought that had ever entered my mind, to reveal it all to her. I began writing furiously, not simply replying point on point to her arguments, but freely letting my thoughts flow and form into whatever they wished. 

I suddenly heard a noise at the entrance, and I snapped my eyes from the paper – into the beautiful ones of the Countess. 

I immediately did not know what to do, or say. The only things present in my mind were the facts that she had just kissed Lord Flauvic, and that she was enchantingly, mind-numbingly stunning when she blushed. My hands went from my hair, smoothly pulled back, to the velvet black and gold trim I had on. She must think I was pretentious, to come sitting here in my Court-wear. I had truly forgotten to change– on account of the news she herself had made.

And then I shock resounded through the very soul of my body. I was kneeling at the table, casually bathing in the sunlight with expensive clothes, and I, the Unknown, was writing a letter to her.

What if she found out?

Surprisingly, the thought was not all that unpleasant to me, but I knew it was still too early…and I feared rejection, if you want to know. But Meliara didn't seem to take note. She looked away from my eyes, which were now swirling incomplete and mystified thoughts about Flauvic, love and letters, and her blush deepened.

"Harantha Chamadis. Thirav Astiar. The Treaty of Seven Rivers. Is there a record?" Her voice was short and clipped, and I could not help but be reminded of a diplomat, avoiding a quarrel.

Slightly down-trodden by the tone, scared to death she would find out who exactly it was I was writing to, and not being able to trust my voice, I mutely pointed my pen to the particular shelf those memoirs were kept.

She walked over and found them, leafing through the pages for a moment. She turned to me, "Do you need my reason - "

I cut in, trying my best to sound light, trying to hide my terror of her finding out. "Just put it back when you're done." I kept writing, studiously glaring at my parchment. But she still stood. Even as the fear grew, there was a small hope in me as I asked, "Was there something else?"

She said quickly, "The party, for Bran and Nee. Do you – should I send you – " 

I let the smile that had been with me all along show as I remembered Bran and Nee's party, "It would cause a deal of talk if you were to avoid inviting any of my family."

"Oh." She swallowed, "Yes, indeed."

I couldn't open my mouth; I was so nervous, and so confused about everything all over again. So I stupidly dipped my pen and continued on my task. It was only a moment before she was lost from my sight again, and I was left cursing myself. 

________

I don't remember much about the next days, except the torrent of letters I received, and the wonderful happiness it gave me. She talked about everything and anything with me (as I tried my best to forget it was because she didn't know it was _actually_ me). As the letters progressed, I found my role of mentor shedding, and I began to use my often dry and acidic sense of humour, often without knowing it until I reread the letter. I began to believe I might actually have a chance.

Of course, these hopes were always abolished when I saw her slipping away at a dance, away from me, probably to check the memoirs when _I_ wasn't there. I felt stupid, making that place my haven, when I had an enormous writing chamber in the Royal Wing. She had probably been going in there for quite some time, and must have used it just as I did – except she, not being a snotty, arrogant Marquis, did not have another writing chamber to go to.

I could neither help noticing that any social gathering I was at, Mel wasn't there. This made it very hard for my servants, who were desperately trying to pair me up. I supposed Bran and Nee had some sort of agreement with her, for you'd figure at least _once_ she would show up. 

It was all very discouraging.

I was sitting in my room, mulling this over with a hefty feeling of self-pity, when there was a light knock on my door. I answered by letting Sirkar in, who was wearing a vague smile on his face. Not one for suspense, he began immediately.

"Lady Elenet Kheraev of Grumareth has arrived at the Residence."

_Finally._ I had been waiting for her to arrive for weeks, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists as well as creating unbelievable amounts of stress for myself. _Someone_ needed to warn the Merindar's that we were on – at least in theory – to what they were planning. And if that someone didn't, I don't know who could have stopped them.

As I walked down into the courtyard, I saw Elenet and her entourage waiting. She was dressed in a stark white undershirt, with a pearl, silk embroidered over shirt. It was swoop necked, and had a thick gold collar. Her riding pants were of more durable material, cotton probably, and were dyed the same off white as her shirt. 

Although her dressings had become more expensive, she was just as I remembered. That same heart-shaped face, those same soft, blue-gray eyes and that same quiet demeanor. Her hair had darkened a little, from fair blond to a halfway point between hay and chocolate.

As she saw me, she smiled a quiet, pleasant smile. I went up to her and pressed her hand to my lips, glad she was back. There seemed to be an odd glint in her eyes – one I hadn't noticed before, but it was swallowed up by a flash of memory: Mel's dark blue eyes flashing up with a vengeance I couldn't control.

Swallowing hard, I let her servants lead her to her rooms, promising we would talk tomorrow, over the riding party, but for now she had to make herself comfortable. I walked back to my chambers as evening fell. It was a beautiful night, and my plan was finally coming together, but I was restless. Was it because I wanted to talk to Elenet? Was it because of that odd glint that put me off? And…why did I want to look in Mel's eyes to see if that glint was there?

Shaking it off, I walked up to my rooms, ready to write another letter to Mel. As I got the paper out, there was another knock on the door. Reluctantly I got up, and opened it to find Sirkar again, with an even wider smile on his face.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

As Sirkar held out a small box of cedar, without any note attached, I took it carelessly and dismissed him, sitting down on the couch. I was about to lay it aside for later, thinking it was a present Elenet's family or friends had sent to thank me. But, for one reason or another, I decided to open it.

And when I did, it immediately went crashing to the floor.

All I could think were incoherent things, and a slight babble came out of my jaw, that was virtually to the floor. For, rolling out of the box onto the floor, was a small ring made of ekirth, and around it was etched laurel leaves. I stared at it for several moments longer, the way the light shone off and was swallowed by it. I gaped at the concept.

Meliara had sent me a ring.

_Life_, I felt like a little wisp of wind being torn up by a cyclone. I picked it up carefully, reverently, and slipped it on my smallest finger. Of course I couldn't wear it in public without gloves, but…_Life_. Meliara had sent me a ring. The feeling was like slowly becoming intoxicated…everything around me blurred, and I felt faint and strong and the same time.

That's about when it crashed down around me.

She hadn't sent _me_ a ring; she had sent the Unknown one. Who knew what she would do if she actually discovered me? Who knew if she was even_ aware_ of exactly what a ring meant in terms of friendship and courtship? 

I sighed, and although part of me wanted to take the ring off, I couldn't bear to. That night, I even wore it to sleep, even more confused than before about what I should do about the predicament (or perhaps blessing) I had gotten myself into.

 ______________

That morning, heading out for the riding party, it was only by chance that I managed to realize I still had the ring on. It both scared and pleased me, that I had already grown accustomed to it. What if I wore it to a dance, and Mel was there? Not even then, if anyone saw it they would question – and then she would know. At this point, I wasn't so sure I _wanted_ it to be kept a secret. In fact, all I really felt like doing was finding Mel, tossing the riding glove I had on to the floor and telling her everything – how I felt, how long I felt it, and the myriad of emotions her letters made me feel – whether or not she ran away and/or punched me in the face was a small detail.

And so not being able to part with it, I wore it anyway, stupid decision or not.

Elenet and I met up with the rest of the riding company (composed of Trishe and her husband, Bran and Nee, Renna, Geral, Tamara, Russav and Lady Arasa Elbanek and her brother, Olervec) at the end of the formal gardens.  When we were assured everyone was there, and formal introduction had been done for those who had not yet met Elenet, we started riding, my childhood friend beside me.

The ride was one I took every week, unless otherwise engaged. And every week, although Bran and Nee each came, Mel was non-existent.

Except today.

I was talking to Elenet, when suddenly there was a rustle by our path. As the movement caught the corner of my eye, I glanced up casually. Immediately my breath choked in my throat, and I shock I didn't expect made my heart jolt and my stomach jump. What was she _doing_ here? I mean, _please_ keep her here, but _why_?

As I glanced around, I realized that she had not accompanied Bran and Nee by their shocked and worries expressions and, (by an _impossible_ chance) missed my gaze, but rather had joined our path somehow. Trishe had a worried expression plastered even on her well taught features, most likely because I was one of their numbers, and although I held affection for her, any conversation I had engaged in with Mel had somehow ended in conflict – with very few exceptions.   

"Bran!" Mel exclaimed, "what a surprise to find you out here!"

That made sense, as Bran was almost always late for the outing due to his regular schedule of sleeping. But I didn't understand why she was here. She could have quite honestly been riding by herself – but I had not seen her or heard of her riding at this day and time before. 

In a swift motion of events, Trishe had already invited her to join the party, and we were heading out to the picnic spot. But something was still bothering me about Mel's arrival. She _knew_, I was sure, that I was in the company. She _knew_ when the day was. So wouldn't she have rather avoided yet another conflict? 

Well, that was arrogant of me.

Just because I was _one_ person with several others didn't mean she wouldn't want to talk to them. At the same time…it was the pattern before. If she wanted to talk to someone, she probably could have done it without my presence. My hand nervously went to my little finger, where the ring was, trying to figure out what it meant and wondering why I _cared _what it meant.

Was she there for me?

As we dismounted, I kept gazing at Mel, and odd sort of smile on my face. She had made herself a good save, by putting Trishe at ease; one I don't believe even Flauvic or Tamara could have pulled off. I wasn't sure if everyone or no one but I knew that she probably hadn't come upon us by accident, but I found it funny, in a wry sort of way. I was also smiling because that simple idea that she might have come to make amends with me was still floating around in my head.

Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, her eyes met mine, and for one second I was thrown into her passion. Still not able to completely wipe the nuances of a smile from my face, I said with only a hint of humour, "I have the honor to introduce you to Lady Elenet Kheraev of Grumareth."

Mel curtsied smiled pleasantly, if shyly at her. To my slight concern, Elenet only gave her a small smile and timid curtsy back. Yes, Elenet was quiet by nature, but she was friendlier than that. Especially with a person I had been singing praises about for months (intentionally or otherwise.) I didn't have time to mull over what had gotten into her, because Trishe had brought out the plates (carefully asking for an extra one for Mel), and it was time to eat.

The conversation over good food was pleasant, but I couldn't help feeling off-guard around Mel, especially when I kept trying to be back _on_ guard. She wandered from each group, and I overheard something of a party, most likely Bran and Nee's. 

As I looked around at the group I was seated with, and I looked at Mel's fast approaching steps, I almost visibly winced. Russav, Tamara, Elenet and I. Russav she could deal with, and Tamara…she had _greatly_ proven herself able to deal with (and as a result was quite a topic of conversation for Russav and I, who were at first skeptical at how she would make out at court.). Elenet was a small thing, but connected to me. Therein lay the problem: me. They were all connected to me, and our foursome made us a very uncomfortable entity for Mel. 

Of course, I couldn't express these things to her, verbally or otherwise. For one, we were not very good with each other, and two, I was not very good with myself. Normally, I could think brilliantly and debate all I wanted – with myself or with others. In court matters I was efficient, because I was trained. 

Well, to put it lightly, I was never trained for Mel. Around the people I had known all my life (and occasionally some I hade never met before), I was sharp-tongued and witty, ready for a laugh…or at least I supposed. At the very least I talked. Around Mel I was mute, excepting the court formalities and recently (fortunately) a few acerbic nuances thanks to the ease her letters transpired. Our past made it simply to hard for me to communicate properly. This was probably the most logical explanation as to why everyone else but the object of my affection knew of my feelings.

Add the confusion of recent events, and all I could get out of my mind was a million words that would not push out of a broken mouth. 

Yet, as she walked over, that same smile formed on my face before. The things I had thought previously, just a few seconds ago, seemed premature and silly. She turned to face me first; talking as if we had been friends since the day I appeared, trespassing on her land, trying to intimidate her. "Good morning, how much I wish to thank you for putting me in the way of finding the proper books for my project."

At this I almost laughed at myself. I 'put her in the way of finding books?' Remembering myself stupidly pointing a pen at a shelf, praying she wouldn't guess what I was writing, I didn't think it quite did justice to her appreciation. I took it and ran with it anyway.

Sketching a bow, desperately trying to keep laughter from entering my speech, instead forcing it to stay on the outskirts of my words, I replied, "If you have any further questions, it would be my pleasure to accommodate you."

"I'd be honored." She curtsied, and, her hands doing the job of a hand, made the gesture of Unalloyed Gratitude. The corners of my mouth deepened, feinting off laughter. She was playing with me, and I enjoyed it. It had been a very long time – if a circumstance had ever existed – that I had talked civilly, let alone pleasantly (in person, at least) with Lady Meliara. 

Maybe she _was_ here for me.

She turned to Russav, and then to Tamara. As she greeted the latter, Tamara murmured, "You'll be in the race tomorrow?"

"Of course," Mel replied, "I have to prove whether my wins last time were luck, skill – or the kindness of well-wishers."

Tamara smiled a little, a smile I thought could have been genuine, "And once you've proved which it is?"

She smiled, "Why then I either celebrate, commiserate – or fulminate!"

I laughed fully at that, as did everyone else. Elenet even, in her own soft way, showed her approval of the joke, and I was glad she might approve of Mel. She turned to me and asked, "Will you be there?"

"I hope to be," I replied simply, ignoring temptation.

"Riding your gray?"

Alright, once I can stand, but two is enough. I smiled slightly, "Is that a challenge?"

The words brought back the memories of the wager – and the fact that I hadn't collected _quite_ yet, due to the fact I was still trying to rebuild (actually, probably just downright _build_) our relationship from the ground up. It must have triggered the same sort of memory, for her face turned red faster than she could pretend it wasn't. When she had finished 'retying the ribbon on her skirts', I intensely tried to stop grinning – as did, I noticed, the others in the group, who by now knew all about her debt to me.

"I think," she continued, "I'd better find out if my luck is due to skill or kindness before I make any pledges."

I nodded. "Very well then, a friendly race will suffice."

For now, anyway.

A/N: Okay….stupid ending line. But I just didn't want to end with a quote. Hah, I'm so creative. Again I am SO utterly sorry for not updating this sooner…I was (and still am) working on my other works for the huge update I had planned for today, and this one was the last I did (out of four.) Add school and a bazillion essays I was (supposed to be) doing, and the fact my karate provincial tournament is coming up…and you get a very tired me. Anyway, I'm going to personally thank you and answer questions…because there's been a lot.

Lisel Bean: I'm glad you like the books! So do I, obviously, because it takes a very good book for me to get off my butt and write a real fanfic :P Thanks for the compliment!! I'm so happy you enjoy it!

Faeriegurl: Lol, Vidanric DOES sound hot!!!! Plus he's rich and intelligent :) Ahhhh….my dream guy! ;) I'm thinking of drawing a pic of him…(drawing being another of my pastimes…) but I'll probably butcher it! XD Thanks for adding the story to you faves! :)

Dryad13: Aww…best story in the Sherwood Smith section? Wow, I'm flattered, honestly! Lol, yes VIDANRIC. Not Shevraeth! :)

Gabi: Glad you like it! Ugh…I know it took eons for me to get this one up :( sorry!

Unkown (as in the person didn't sign in! XD): If this is Lydiby…*waves* it just sounds like you! lol, I know I know….I would NEVER stop being lazy and write if people didn't tell me to!

Amberose: Oh, I couldn't STAND not knowing hwat he was thinking! Before this fic, I didn't like doing fanfics…just the thought of portraying someone elses chartacter brought up thoughts of how many ways I could screw up :P but I was *really* intrigued this time! I'm so happy you like it!

Blue eyes: Another claim that it's the best Sherwood Smith fic? Wow…I really am flattered by this. Sorry it took so long…

Nianla: Is that your real name? I want it if it is! (Or if it isn't…) you know what my real name is? Dancy. Well, Kathryn, but, because of a long story, everyone calls me my middle name, which is Dancy. My mom's maiden name. Ugh. (off topic…) glad you like it!

Angelprinczess29: Thank you for you compliments…honestly, when anyone tells me I write well, or my story  is good, I walk around with this huge goofy smile on my face. Thank you thank you thank you!

Athena: Thank you thank you!! I'm glad you like it! I love writing it!

Calcifersgrl: I'm glad you like the song! I really love it…it's a very good song…the lyrics do something to me :P (silly me…) Yeah, I KNOW the letters are screwed up…I looked at them after, and I was like 'what…the…' they're italicized in the Word copy…so….I really don't know! 

 Geniusgirl: Wow. Your review made me feel so special! I love the way you review!! Lol, tons of flattery and reasons to back it up ;) It puts a smile on my face!! I'm glad you see the humour. Who knows if Sherwood meant it that way…but it's just my interpretation! :) thanks again!!!!!

Star-eyed Kal'enedral: Thank you! *kisses your feet* I'm glad you like it!

Nicole: *hangs head in shame* I know I should have updated this earlier. I am SO SORRY. Please forgive me!!!!

Saranha de Angelo: I still love that name!! Lol, yes, jealous was the word he was being about Flauvic :) Glad you like it.

Lydiby: Ah…by far my most enthusiastic reviewer! I love you too!! :) Thanks for badgering me…I sorry this took so long. Sorry sorry sorry sorry. And thank YOU! I hope you liked this chapter.

Meg: Thank you for the compliment!!!! I'm so glad you liked it!

Sparklerain: yes, yes, typos abound in my stories. I'm not very meticulous when it comes to typos. I never read my work over, except spellcheck, but even then, some typos are actual words. Hmmm… 'This Brilliant Dance' ? Cooouuullld be. I've been mistaken before, and since I only have the CD in Mp3 format, I wouldn't be able to tell for sure! XD

Elspeth: I love writing this story, so I'm glad you like it! Writing from Vidanric's perspective gives me so much freedom! (but I probably still screw up!) There's so much work and research to be done, about what he knows and doesn't know about Mel, and what she knows and what he ells her at the end….I'm still desperately trying to figure out where to properly put him researching how Mel's mother died! XD

Lady O Lorien: I love your name too! Thanks for the review…*sniff* sorry for the delay in update :(

Zenin: Thank you for the compliments! I'm glad you like it!!!

Delphine: I like your name!! Thank you thank you thank you!

Kuri: I'm glad you like it so much!! This story is very fun to write :)

MystyAngel: Thank-you for your critique!!! Hmm…a note about the spelling errors: I'm Canadian, so if it's the Canadian spelling, and you're American, there's a chance that that's why. Other than that it's my fault, or spell check didn't pick up on it (I only read my chapters through once, and barely proof-read XD) yes, cowboy-bebop rules!!!! Hehe, anime isn't my **favorite **thing to watch, but from time to time I do, and that's one of the greatest! Thanks for your review!

**One last note**: I usually try to review (and follow up) my reviewer's stories. I am still working on that. There's just been such and outpouring of reviews (Nope, I wouldn't DREAM of complaining about it!), and with school, and my extra-curricular responsibilities, I'm behind. I PROMISE I will try my BEST to review your stories. Oh my…I'm having deja-view at this moment. My deja-view's are very detailed…and it's creepy.

Yes I talk too much :P

Anyway, just wanted to let you know that I appreciate greatly everything you guys have done for my ego! :) I don't want to take that for granted. I used to e-mail a  thanks to everyone, but with four stories and more idea's coming, I had to stop because I got so behind. I know, I suck. But you rule, and I'm working on it!

P.S.: This little 'one last note' will appear on every story I've updated today…sooo if you read the others, well, I guess you can scroll down to the review box!! XD

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**AND ANOTHER THING!!**

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Before I ever posted anything on FF.net, I wrote an ENTIRE novel. 300 some odd pages. It was started in gr.4 and finished in gr. 8. Wow, huh? Obviously, the writing varies from 'just learning' to 'alright'. It's one of the major things that formed the way I write today. I wasn't in any clubs, and no one else read it except my sister and a good friend of mine, Madeline. The book is ripped off from every conceivable thing, and blatantly so. But, in the end result, I think the content is okay. If you DESPERATLEY want to read it, you can e-mail me…but I'm warning you. It's just simply called "Varissa." Oh yeah, creative I know. And nope, I ain't posting it….it's way too embarrassing.


	4. The Goldenwood Throne

Ugh! I would have had this chapter up earlier…think SUNDAY. That means for almost a week I've been trying to get this up…but guess what? I write all my chapters in the computer in my room…and I ran out of working floppy disks (had to use to many for a school project). AAAH. It took me until today to get them…so here it is. Sorry, but it REALLY wasn't my fault this time! I'm still sorry though :(

Chapter 4: The Goldenwood Throne

I soon found my opinion of my chance with Mel growing more and more confident. Not to say I was ready to jump in and risk my neck just yet, but it was becoming clearer to me that she did _not_ hate me. At the very least, she didn't hate me in the letters, and those were becoming more and more of what I was than anything oral communication would show. It was harder to convince myself that the ring meant her undying devotion to man she had never seen.

Although the Marquise was not present, Elenet was proving to be a brilliant warning to the rest of the Merindar's. As often as we could, we took walks together in the private courtyards, underneath the hallway leading to the library. The talk ranged from ways to deal with the latest Merindar ambition to the latest winning horse.  As was expected, our names were put together quite often, but there was no reason for proof to be found, so the rumors soon died down. 

The rain started pouring down for quite a while – races were cancelled, as well as formal and informal gatherings. I've always loved rain. It's comforting, to hear the solid motion of dropping water - it also makes me think of Tlanth, the time I visited on friendly terms. In the midst of the rebellion, it gave me little of the joy I usually held for it – everything seemed to go against me: the mud, the clouds, and the storms. On the days I sat at Bran and Mel's table, it seemed to echo some strange song from the hills. Harmony, peace…I didn't feel like I was an enemy.__

Today, though, the rain brought anxiety. I had been putting off writing a response to the gift Mel had given me – riding parties and picnics were small distractions from the problem, and none were happening at the moment. Now, because I had been thinking about it all morning, and because the invitation I had received to Bran and Nee's wedding party arranged by Mel had prompted me, I finally got up the resolve to put my thoughts on paper.

_I thank you for the fine ring. It was thoughtfully chosen and I appreciate the generous gesture, for I have to admit I would rather impute generosity than mere caprice behind the giving of a gift that cannot be worn._

After the first part, I gazed at the writing, fingering the ring that I had on, now that I wasn't in public. It sounded stiff - well I should be, for I was unsure how to start. Gritting my teeth, I continued, a faint hope lingering in me.

_Or is this a sign that you wish, after all, to alter the circumscriptions governing our correspondence?_

_   I thought – to make myself clear – that you preferred your admirer to remain secret. I am not convinced you really wish to relinquish this game and risk the involvement inherent in a contact face-to-face._

Reading it over, I realized it was slightly rude and a bit forward – but I knew it needed to be said. I wasn't about to fool myself right away into thinking that I was far enough along in my relationship with her as someone other than the Unknown to stand revealing myself. It was better than before…but still a mess of confusion and trouble. If I was going to attempt to convince her that I was not the captor, interrogator and enemy she first knew me as, it wasn't going to happen over night – it _wasn't_ happening over night.

I sent it off, and prepared for the rest of the day.

***

When I came home that day, there was another note from Mel. Taking a deep breath, I opened it slowly. As I unfolded the paper, the words slowly unraveled.

_You have given me much to think about._

_Will you wear the ring, then, if I ask you to?_

I sat down, looking at the small sentences. There was nothing of tone in the text, or gist in the words, yet somehow I knew she understood. She finally realized how _I_ saw it - more than a friendly relationship, for I had given her the ring for a reason. Someday I hoped to have more than paper to show for my efforts. At last, she had realized that when my role as mentor had shed the correspondence had become a strange, interesting sort of courtship.

I had only worn the ring once, on that day when she first showed up for the riding party. That was a foolish thing to do, and so I had not worn it since – not even underneath gloves. Now that she asked me though…well, gloves _were_ in style. It would be easy enough to hide under those.

I slept on it, and in the morning I sent her the only thing I could think of: a single white rose.

I would wear the ring.

***

Elenet told me later of her first informal meeting with Mel, smiling slightly. The smile changed slightly to melancholy as she told of her conversation about Galdran. As she spoke the words churned in my brain to make images I had thought I could forget. The years of being bound by a chain, choked slowly by colorless words and empty feelings. Forced into being stupid, scared of winning simple games – God forbid you ever expressed yourself besides devotion for the tyrant king. 

After we parted, I walked up to my rooms, where I was to be meeting one of my spies, slightly troubled. After holding it all up, the memories came flooding thought at a splintering rate. I remembered all the sad songs beautiful voices couldn't sing, the washed out smiles and blank faces. Those were the times I learned how to be something I really wasn't – and when the kingdom came out of it, some of us had forgotten to be who we were. When I had met Mel – it was a breath of fresh air. There was a blindingly vibrant color to every movement she made, every word she said saturated with feeling, conviction and passion. Many people were drawn to her – many were repelled. All of us wanted to revive that feeling in us – and many were succeeding. It was like a bird flying out of a cage into the sun, after years of darkness and confinement. Galdran had done that to everyone – he had even touched Mel's family, through her mother.

Suddenly I gave a start. Mel's _mother_.

At one time, Mel had told me of the tragedy that had befallen her mother – but there was something wrong with it. Yes, I was sure that Galdran had ordered her killed – but not even Mel knew why. All her mother's books burned – and for a reason she didn't know! 

Yet I knew.

It was a problem that had plagued me since the day I found a particular letter from the Marquise addressed to 'King Galdran' – a problem I had yet again tried to forget. The letter explained the dealings of Mel's mother as a mage. It scornfully depicted her quest of making the kingdom better with magic, and her selection by the Council of Mages to study magic. She warned Galdran against a woman who only wanted to help her land, and he had her killed.

So I hope you can understand why I can't think of anything to say on the subject around Mel.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. Unexpectedly, there was a whoosh as my door was opened, and my spy strolled into the room. Startled out of my thoughts, I turned to face him.

"Has knocking gone out of style?" I asked him dryly, but he shrugged. It was part of his job to be unseen, but being jolted out of unpleasant memories was the worst way to be taken off guard. I leaned back to listen to what he had to say.

"The Duke of Grumareth has made a rendezvous with The Marquise of Merindar and her daughter." He coughed quietly, "Their paths have 'crossed', shall we say?"

By that he meant driven together.

"They stopped at an inn, because of the rain I assume – but did not leave until second-green."

I nodded. Of course they were planning something, _that_ was no surprise. I just needed to find out _what_. I ordered the spy to keep working, and sent out more equerries. It was now all a matter of waiting – stressful and frustrating – but unless I thought I could march out towards the Marquise right this moment and tell her what I thought of her and her offspring – which I couldn't – then I would have to leave it to my net of riders.

***

The days flowed on, and I began to feel a sense of routine. The only thing that stands out in my mind is my steadily improving relationship with the Countess of Tlanth. It was slow – painstakingly slow – and our conversations were almost always with other people – but finally, _finally_, my confidence in her and myself was being rebuilt. It made me feel like, at long last, she was beginning to see my side of the story.

Elenet and I still stayed close, now more than ever, with the impending threat of the Merindar's. At times I wondered what Flauvic himself paid any heed to the warning, for he seemed to be detached from everything his family plotted – even if my past experiences with him could never draw the same picture. In any case, he was not blind: Elenet was there.

There were also growing whispers – ones that could not even escape my ears – wondering when my coronation would take place. _That_ topic was a battlefield of mixed emotions. Generally, the kings were usually _married_, and although not a mandate, I wanted to have _some_ prospects. I just didn't think I could possibly choose a wife – or even pretend to – while Mel still occupied my every thought. 

Speaking of the countess, our correspondence was pleasant as ever – but something in me was nagging to take it one step further. In my last letter, I had copied pages of a book contemplating King Mages, and though the conversation was humorous (and, considering I was to be king and knew no magic, ironic), it was somehow empty. 

Because of this, I was relived – overjoyed, really – to receive her next letter. 

_I can find it in myself to agree with the main points, that kings ought not to be sorcerers, and that two kinds of power are better left in the charge of different persons. But I must confess that trouble in Chwairsland and Colend seems a minor issue right now. The problems of wicked mage-kings are as distant as those two kingdoms, and what occupy my attention now are problems closer to home. Everyone seems to whisper about the strange delay concerning our own empty throne, but as yet no one seems willing to speak aloud. Have you any insights on why the Renselaeus family has not made any definite plans?_

As I finished the letter, I drew a shaky breath and let it back out.  To my great surprise and happiness, she had done the step for me – she had bridged the gap between safe subjects to a more specific, personal one. This move made me both brave and scared, but I knew there was only one thing to be done. I _had _to find out _something_, gain any kind of ground possible. I would at least have _some_ kind of idea of my place as 'The Marquis', depending on how she acted.

As I picked up my pen and determinedly put pen to paper, I kept thinking of all the things I had noticed about her of late. The way her eyes seemed to be on me, the way she didn't rush when she saw me, or avoid me – I even thought about the ring she unwittingly gave me! -…the thoughts helped me to think that I was doing wasn't foolhardy, or that I was in for a downfall. It just took my mind off our problems…and I was able to focus on her eyes, looking at me without fear for the first time. After I had finished, I read it over.

_You ask why there has been no formal announcement concerning a coronation. I think this question is better addressed to the person most concerned, but I do know this: Nothing will be announced until the sculptors have finished refashioning a goldenwood throne for a queen_.

I doubt she would note the irony, not knowing who I was, but it gave me comfort to know it myself. As for the throne – there was none. Maybe, though, the signs that I had read were accurate, and she had feelings about me – or was staring to. If this was true…perhaps I could at least get some vague proof of those feelings, depending on how she acted. It was only a hope, but it was better than what I had at this moment.

I could not send the letter until after sword practice, so I got dressed in my riding leathers and headed for the gymnasium. It was a beautiful room, enormous and ancient. Long ago it had been used for armies, their banners hanging on the walls. Not so long ago Galdran used it for his own terrifying army. Even though I didn't enjoy some of the memories it gave me, for some reason it always helped practice swordplay, like I was back up against the hated king Galdran with Mel.

 When I got there, Mel herself was being clobbered valiantly by one of Nee's cousins – although her enthusiasm more than made up for her disadvantage of experience. Realizing she probably wouldn't have gotten my letter yet, I felt a surge of bravery take over my body. What better time to test my grounds than now?

Before I got the chance to approach her, Bran and Russav greeted me, and followed me up to Mel, where she stood after finishing the session with Lornav. For some odd, amazing reason, as I tapped her on the shoulder with my practice, I wasn't anxious or nervous. To my great surprise – and gratefulness – I was becoming comfortable with her in person. 

When she turned around and saw me, I couldn't help but notice the gape on her face. I also couldn't help but smile, flanked by Bran and Russav (who were probably at this moment looking at me with approval or snickering to themselves). "Come, Lady Meliara," I said smoothly, "Let's see how much you've learned since you took on Galdran."

A small blush rose in her cheeks. "I _didn't_ take on Galdran," she protested, and my smile grew.

"I don't know what you'd call it, then, Mel," Bran spoke up, leaning on his sword and taking turns from grinning at Mel to grinning at me. "Looked like you went have-at-'im to me."

"I was just trying to defend _you_," she retorted as we laughed. When it died down she grumbled, "and a fat lot of good it did, too! He knocked me right out of the saddle!"

"Hit you from behind," I said, smiling, with a tone of indignation, "Apparently he was afraid to confront so formidable a foe face-to-face."

There was laughter at this, though I'm sure everyone within hearing distance could sense the mocking of Galdran, and the joy of freedom in our voices. Before the laughter could die down I raised my point and cajoled her further. "Come now. Blade up."

She sighed, and I believe it was at that moment I realized with joy that it was a playful sigh, and that it was possible she was glad to have me in her company. My smile grew even wider as she spoke next. "I've already been made into cheese by Derec there, and Renna, and Lornav, but if you think I merit another defeat…"

We laughed again, and, sensing her consent, squared off. Bran with Russav, and Mel with me. The fight was what I assumed she had been used to all day; not very long withstanding, truth be told. She had improved immensely, though, and held her own. No one would dream of insulting her with handicaps, her passion for it caught many of us by surprise. It's true she lost, but it was not so easy a loss as when she came here before.

It was soon after we were done that the bell for third-gold rang, and the hall was thrown into a well-rehearsed chaos. Although some who were not going to Court, many of us had our duties to fill.

 I glanced at Mel, who had never been there before – besides when Galdran ruled. Who would want to go to that place again after experiencing it for the first time? I realized, though, that that was what I used to (maybe still did) represent to her: a room full of mocking courtiers. That room, although it was the place that _I_ fell in love with her, was the room where I brought _her _as a captive. As long as she felt that way about it, she would never see how different Athanarel's court was. These thoughts helped me muster up my courage.

She turned away from the rushing people – to find me. "You've never sampled the delights of the Petitioner's Court," I told her neutrally. As I said this, though, a shiver went through her body, and it was easy to tell she was thinking of Galdran on that goldenwood throne, laughing at her. I said quickly and quietly, "It is no longer an opportunity for a single individual to practice summary justice such as you experienced on your single visit." She _had_ to see what I meant…

"I'm certain you don't just sit around happily and play cards," she muttered, not meeting my eyes.

"Sometimes we do, when there are no petitioners. Or we listen to music. But when there is business, we listen to the petitioners, accept whatever they offer in the way of proof, and promise a decision at a later date. That's for the first two greens. The last is spent in discussing impressions of the evidence at hand; sometimes agreement is reached, and sometimes we decide that further investigation is required before a decision can be made."

At these words, she looked up at me in surprise. I tried to look at her in a neutral tone again, presenting what _I_ knew of the Court, trying to let her see that with the fall of Galdran went his ways – ways we _all_ hated.

Finally she said, "You listen to the opinions of whoever comes to the Court?"

"Of course," I said, "It means they want to part of government, even if their part is to be merely ornamental."

Her next statement sent my mind whirring. "Why should I be there? I remember what you said about worthless advisors."

It took me a second to realize she was talking about the time I had dinner with her at Tlanth. _Life_, the dinner! Where she told me of every thought that had ever crossed her mind…where I stared at her in awe, where I _knew_, without a doubt or a chance to deny, of how deeply I loved her – in every aspect possible. Now here she was telling me that I didn't value her opinion, her reason being the example when I had come to value it with my life.

My next words came out rapidly, a reaction from my thoughts. "Do you think any opinion you would have to offer would be worthless?"

"It doesn't matter what _I_ think of my opinion," she retorted, and then changed her train of thought, "I mean to say, it is not me making the decisions."

I raised my eyebrows, "So what you seem to be implying is that I think your opinion worthless." This was _absurd_! If she only knew…

"Well, don't you?"

I sighed, "When have I said so?"

"At the inn in Lumm, last year. And before that. About our letter to Galdran, and our opinion of courtiers."

"I wasn't you opinion I pointed up, it was your ignorance," I said, trying to not let my frustration show. "You seem to have made truly admirable efforts to overcome that handicap. Why not share what you've learned?"

She shrugged. "Why don't you have Elenet there?" 

The question confused me, since I had already done so – I would assume she knew. "An excellent suggestion, and one I acted on immediately after she arrived at Athanarel. She's contributed some very fine insights. She's another, by the way, who took her own education in hand. Three years ago about all she knew was how to paint fans." And I'd bet everything I owned that she could do better than anyone else. 

I'm pretty sure she knew she was in a corner, so she wearily said, "All right, then. I'll go get Mora to dig out that Court dress I ordered and be there to blister you all with my brilliance."

Keeping an almost knowing smile from my face, I bowed and casually saluted her, walking off to get ready – and to send the letter.

***

I sat below my parents, kneeling formally on expensive cushions behind a long ivory table. People were milling about, waiting for the Court to begin – I myself was growing restless. I felt in place with the rest of the court in my white tunic, winking with silver and blue gemstones. My hair also caught the light, for braided into were the same colored gems. 

Even though I suppose I fit in, I did not feel comfortable, and I never would. Although Galdran's banners had been removed long ago, leaving only the tattered flag of Remalna, I remembered standing on the other side, forced to act like an idiot around both my friends and the king, just so I could stand here. 

After a few moments, the Court commenced. As I was listening to the petitioners, I was also looking for Mel. Could she have changed her mind? I thought that unlikely, for she _did_ keep her word. It was then that my heart gave a jump when my eyes caught a glimpse of her face, standing beside Elenet and Russav.

She was wearing a rose colored dress, trimmed with silver and maroon, and a resplendent headdress. The color made her hair alive, and her eyes, even from this distance, burned the air around them. She looked like a queen. I swallowed, and turned my attention back to the current petitioner. 

It didn't take long for the Court to end, and the antechamber was opened for more talk. Not to my surprise, Mel did not pass out her opinion as liberally as she would have in private. The talk was pleasant about the petition, and one was deemed complex enough to require further investigation. The rest the scribe wrote, and Court was adjourned for another day. 

I walked to the Residence, loosing my hair and changing into a more comfortable tunic. I was restless, thinking that Mel could be reading the letter at this moment – and what if she was fine with it? Cursing my nerves, I pulled a book I had read about twelve times and focused my thoughts on reading. It may have only succeeded in reminding me of Mel's love for learning, though, for it certainly didn't take my mind off her.

***

She hasn't written to me for two days. She's wandering around like a ghost.

And I am feeling better than ever.

I knew it had to mean _something._ I wasn't sure if she would admit it yet...but _life, _she felt something! I no longer was cynical about it, or unconfident…it was like a weight off my shoulder, and I felt silly when I thought of the things I had put myself through.

Oh, but it was _worth it_, for her.

After I was sure about her feelings, and I had bathed in gratefulness, I sent her another letter, this one not talking about thrones or brides. She seemed to be brought back to normal, and I stayed in the sunlight of happiness – although I still knew it was not time to admit to her _my_ feelings.

By the time Mel's ball arrived, Athanarel was practically buzzing with excitement – I too felt it, although I tried my best to hide it. As I walked down the stairs in robes of what ancient Renselaeus' would have worn (for the theme was set five hundred years ago), I looked around me. The room was dressed in gold and green, the colors of Remalna. As soon as it commenced, I knew the triumph Mel had created.

I looked around for her soon after I entered, paying due respects to many people. What I found was a very flustered Mel walking with Flauvic. For the first time in a while my heart jolted and I remembered the kiss she and Flauvic shared, until I looked at her face – uncomfortable. 

I waited for a while, until Flauvic departed to circulate. Walking towards her, replaying her reaction to the letter to comfort myself, I prepared. Before I could catch her attention, she turned towards me. Going with the flow, I gave her a grand bow. "My dear Countess. Please bolster my declining prestige by joining me in this dance."

"It's a tartelande. From back then."

She wasn't getting away _that_ easily.  "Which I studied up on last week," I said smoothly, offering my arm. 

She blushed all the way up to her forehead, and I could barely keep one from showing on my face. Yes, our relationship was developing…yes (thank-_you!_) she had feelings for me…but we hadn't danced since…since Russav's ball when we first arrived. Her skin felt warm, and she looked beautiful in white and a soft gray, accented by ribbons of lavender.  As I led her to the dance floor, she looked away for a moment, and then straight into my eyes, causing me to give a subtle jump.

She kept looking away from me, her face getting redder by the moment. As the music came through me, I thought of the last time I danced with her – the feeling in the pit of my heart seemed to have only grown bigger, and it was taking all I had to make sure I didn't profess my love at this moment. I thought of our letters, tried to guess what she was feeling at this moment. I couldn't look in her eyes or I would…

That's when I did look at her, and was somewhat confused by her expression. She was looking at me – thinking of me? – but staring through me. Suddenly she looked up at me, and I swallowed, trying to tear my eyes away,

She smiled nervously, "I'll wager you the most comfortable of men here tonight."

I smiled, looking at the long tunic that was more like a robe, colored a sky blue, with black and white embroidery down the long front and to the wide sleeves. My hair was pulled back with a glittering blue gem, and bluefire stone in my ear. I _was_ comfortable when I was alone, but right now, with her, my flesh was on fire.

"Those tight waistcoats do look uncomfortable," I replied, "but I rather like the baldrics."

At this moment Bran, who had been dancing across from us, slipped up from the order of the dance. Being Bran, he heeded no etiquette and simply hopped back in, laughing. I smiled, and everyone else seemed to join in after.

The night rolled along, although I did not dance with Mel again – for she only danced one other time, with Russav. He insisted I join in the set with Elenet, who I did not dance with again, either. She was serene and graceful – as always – but she seemed quieter than usual. I was only worried about this for a moment, because I kept sensing Mel's eyes on me.

She was looking at _me._

A/N: So how was it? My favorite part's coming up! Well, one of them :) This chapter took a pretty short time, didn't it? That's because Im rushing…so the writing may not be top notch, and typos may abound. Speaking of typos, the last chapter had a lot of them! Sorry, I plan to take away the mistakes when this fic is done, so don't worry. Oh! And the copy I have is the firebird copy, and I know for sure now that in other copies, Flauvic and Mel don't kiss…so any other discrepancies you might want to tell me, and I'll see about it :)

Two things about this story: The thing with Vidanric knowing about Mel's mother is something that I confirmed with the book, it just took me a LONG time to find that specific part. I probably should have mentioned that he knew earlier…but I was confused about what he actually DID know.

Secondly: DOES Vidanric wear Mel's ring when she asks him to? I first had it that he didn't…because I'll admit, I have NO IDEA what the white rose means in this circumstance! So I said he did, but it was a toss up…I just decided that if he had it on the time he found her in the inn, he probably said yes. So…if not, or if you thought something else…sorry!

To those who wanted my story…it's coming. I just have to format it properly, which takes a longer time than I hoped :)


	5. A Question of Trust

A/N: I'm sorry. It's been a horribly long time since I updated this. It's only that this fanfic has been on the back-burner (and my other story as well) for my fic "The Courting of Aviahnna Rubenne". (*hint* and if you want to check THAT one out ;)) Anyway, I really do feel horrible about the amount of updating. Yes, I'm horrible when it comes down to updating, partly because of my procrastination and partly because of my schedule, but this wait was pretty uncalled for. So, sorry…if you guys are still reading :)

Chapter 5: A Question of Trust

As I returned from Mel's party, a light, airy feeling washed over me, one I couldn't shake even if I had wanted to. 

Of course, I wasn't counting on someone doing it for me.

When I arrived at my quarters, Sirkar rushed to meet me before I was able to enter the antechamber. His eyes were wild, and his body tense and eager as he gripped onto my shoulders. I felt some of that bliss that had been there only seconds ago fading steadily away – the blood from my face was draining even more rapidly than that feeling as I looked past him.

Not _now_.

A spy was reclining on a chair, and as he hastily rose and bowed, my stomach twisted. Of all the times, of _all_ the things…not now. 

"Your grace," he smirked eagerly.

I quickly scolded myself. I knew what the spy was going to say – it was easy enough to tell. It was something expected sooner or later, and nothing mortally shocking – yet I did not want to listen. – Not because of fear, or foreboding – because of simple complacency. I wanted to stay here, in that moment of bliss, my flesh still warm from Mel's hands, and my mind filled with her smell, not the glint of swords and deceit. It was shameful to think the way I was – but frankly, I didn't care.

 "Would you perhaps like a drink? You have ridden far, and are wearied – I thank you for your honor, but at this moment you comfort his my concern."

He shook his head with determination, and glared at me with dark eyes. "The Merindar's are marching to war- they have only to wait for their last recruits."

I sighed inwardly, and forced a smile onto my lips. I was expecting later – in truth, much later – but it could not be helped. I had a job, and whatever hesitance I had needed to be thrown away. 

I nodded to him, asked for my cloak, my helm and my sword, and made haste to ride out to the main roads. 

As soon as my horse galloped outside, rain misted through my eyes. The air was both damp and biting, and I realized just how tired I was.  My vision swam for a few frightening moments, but I bent my head, gritted my teeth and carried on. It was not long before I reached the hills, as the rain still dripped down from the sky.

I briefly thought of Mel, but for the most part, I tried not to. She was comparatively far away, and more than ever I could not let my mind wander, for fear of uncovering the fatigue of reluctance and the late night. 

By the time I had reached the small village, my horse was tiring, my ill-made façade with myself was already chipping at an alarming rate, and I felt I was a second away from falling straight to the ground at every moment. When the inn came within my grasp, I grated out something resembling a request for a fresh horse with an unrecognizable voice. Walking limply to the lobby of the inn, I grated out another request for a private room. 

Once shown to it, I sank into the couch, determinedly thinking of nothing. This was simply a rest. I would eat, drink, refresh myself and then I would continue. I had to continue, for Remalna.

But all I wanted was her.

Without warning, there was a shuffle of feet at the door, and I quickly snapped my head up to see a flash of oddly familiar eyes peering from the tapestry. I kept staring at those eyes until I realized with a jerk that felt more like death that it was Mel, right in front me. Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, she flipped back the tapestry and fled.

I could not honestly tell you what I was thinking then; past absolute shock and what seemed to be a gaping hole in my chest. I knew nothing then, but the overwhelming despair that was gripping me coldly. As she retreated, I somehow got a clear thought through the haze – but it was one of duty. I pulled back the tapestry, where she was leaning against the wall, her back facing me.

I reached for and grasped onto her arm firmly, as she looked drearily up at me. There was another terrible lurch from my stomach, but I braced it and drew her into the room silently. Still not trusting my voice, I pointed to a cushion, and she sat down with all the weariness I wasn't showing.

"Azmus…" she croaked, he eyes confused. "How could you – I sent him –"

"Drink." I ordered, interrupting her while pressing a mug to her hands. "Then we can talk."

While she drank, I sat with what I supposed was an inscrutable expression on my face – but my insides felt like they had been cut with a red-hot knife and dropped carelessly on the floor. My heart was still, and my breath was shallow, and my eyes weren't seeing properly. All my focus was on her.

What was she _doing_ here? My mind was shaking with the question, and I was faint with fear for the answer. I was also past furious with myself, and the fool of a Marquis I'd become. 

What if she was here to find the Merindars?

What if she was on their side? It certainly seemed like that, I could no longer allow myself to be blinded by my partiality for her. I had brushed off every single account, every single suspicion – her try for the crown, Flauvic - and I was a _fool_ for it. Here it was, slapping me in the face, the apex of all my mistakes, and I was quivering with fear. This had gone on to long – once and for all I needed to _know_.

But how, in my current state, was I supposed to do it?

"How did you did you get ahead of me so fast?" Mel questioned me, looking straight into my eyes, her own a mix of confusion and weariness. "I don't understand."

I couldn't help my eyes widening in surprise, more at her demeanor than her words. She seemed genuinely bewildered, and her words dripped with conviction of that confusion. It wasn't fake or put-on – at the very least, it didn't seem so. Furthermore, her words didn't make any sense whatsoever to me, while they seemed to be asking _me_ a question.

"How," I started slowly, unsure, "did you know I was here? We told no one when I was leaving, or my route, outside two servants."

"I _didn't_ know you were here," she insisted. "I sent Azmus to you. With news. About the Merindar's. You mean you already _knew_?"

My vision was now blurring further with confusion, but I let my trained court voice carry me to sure footing. "Let us backtrack a little, if you will bear with my lamentable slowness. I take it, then, that you were riding thus speedily to join me?" I forced irony into my voice, "because if you were, your retreat now is somewhat puzzling, you'll have to admit."

She answered, innocently indignant. "I peeked in because I thought you might be one of the Merindars, and if so, I'd send a warning back to you. I mean, you if you were there. Does that make sense?" She frowned to herself, shook her head, and drained the coffee.  

I smiled weakly, but nothing could save from the burning, tearing feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was then that the serving maid came in, carrying a bowl of food and fresh bread. "Will you have some as well?" she turned to Mel.

"Please." I ordered, before she could speak, knowing she would most likely refuse. "and more coffee.'

When the serving maid had gone out, I braced myself yet again for the test upon me. "Now, begin again, please. What is it you're trying to tell me, and where are you going?"

She tore her eyes away from the food at my elbow, and looked at me again. "I'm going to Orbanith," she said, pulling off her soggy gloves. "I guess I am trying to tell you what you already seem to know – that the Merindars are on the attack, with hired mercenaries from Denlieff. But- why do you want me to tell you when you already _do_ know this?" She looked up once again at me, and my heart faltered in to the fiery pit of my stomach.

My mouth was stiff as I answered. "I am trying to ascertain what your place is in the events to transpire, and act accordingly. From whom did you get this information?"

Despite all my suspicions, my mouth went dry and my heart broke in my chest as I saw it dawn on her. Her face turned pale, and her eyes withdrew their focus from me to inside her. 

I knew she was replaying all my reservations in her head – Flauvic, the crown, our obvious problems. It was terrible for me to watch as she realized my doubt for her – terrible because after all the time I'd spent gaining her trust, she now had to face a time where my uncertainty for her was a matter of life and death. We had rarely communicated-  if ever- on friendly terms, and I cursed myself for not trying harder. Either way, it would have made this painful meeting unable to crush my soul as it was doing now.

But I had to do it.

The maid came in with another tray of food, but Mel barely looked at it, as I had not looked at mine. When she looked at me it was with illness and misery, but I vowed to be impartial – this could all be a grand trick.

"Tell me where you got your information." I said, stones in my throat.

"Azmus. Our old spy." He lips were blue, and she started to shiver. I fought against a feeling of further misery, and the desperate want to put my arms around her. I couldn't risk anything anymore. "My reasons were partly stupid and partly well-meaning, but I sent him to find out what the Marquise was after. She wrote me during the winter – but you knew about that."

I only nodded in response.

"And you even tried to warn me, but at the time I saw it as a threat because – well, because." I was infinitely glad she didn't continue with that thought. Drawing a shaky breath, she continued. "And again. At her party, when she took me into the conservatory. She tried to get me to join her. Said I hadn't kept my vows to Papa. So I summoned Azmus to help me find out what to do. The right thing. I know I can't prove it."

At that moment, the sole thing I was wishing for, and it seemed to be the only thing I had ever wanted, was for this whole thing to disappear. I tugged on the glove of one hand, the hand with the ring, lost in my own thoughts. I looked at it for a moment, wishing I could tear it off and pour my soul out to her, place my heart on a platter – I wish I trusted myself enough to do it. This situation was cruel and cold, to be sitting here, across from the woman I loved, her ring on my finger, trying to decide whether she had betrayed my country. 

Suddenly I realized that I was sitting in silence, staring at the glove, and I straightened, lifting my gaze to her. "And now? You're riding to the border?"

"No." She said, "to Orbanith."

I didn't understand, and again showed my surprise.

"It's the other thing Azmus found out," She supplied hastily. "I sent him to tell you as soon as I learned – but there's no way for you to know that's true. I realize it. Still, I _did_. I have to go because I know how to reach the Hill Folk.

My brow went first up and then down. "The Hill Folk?"

"Yes," she replied, leaning in towards me, "The kinthus. The Merindars have stowed it in wagons, and they're going to burn it up-slope. Carried on the winds, it can kill the Hill-Folk over a full day's ride, all at once. That's how their paying Denlieff, with our woods, not with money at all. They're breaking our Covenant! I _have _to warn the Hill-Folk."

He conviction mixed with her beautiful made my feel as if I was swaying violently in the wind, unsure which fall would lead me to a net and which one would lead to dark, open air. I needed _more_, and I couldn't trust myself to think.

"Orbanith? Why there, why this road?"

"Mora and the servants told me this was the fastest way to Orbanith."

"Why did you not go south to Tlanth where you know the Hill-Folk?"

As she shook her head, I had the peculiar sensation of being ignorant, for the first time in a long time. "You don't _know_ them. You can't know them. They don't have names, or if they do, they don't tell them to us. They seem to be aware of each other's concern, for if you see one, then suddenly others will appear, all silent. And if they act, it's at once. Some of the old songs say that they walk in one another's dreams, which I think is a poetic way of saying they can speak mind to mind. I don't know. I _must_ get to the mountains to warn them, and the mountains that source the Piaum River are the closest to Remalna-city.

Once again her conviction hit me like a blow to the chest, and my mind spun. She was my weakness. If I did not trust my instinct, everything would be lost. Yet something in me told me that, even with the partiality, what she was saying was not a lie. Her eyes were too focused, her mouth too still, her discomfort too apparent. Yet my heart was caught in my throat, and all the doubts I'd ever had rose up to meet me.

My voice came out soft; both because of the emotions and the fact I was staring straight at those eyes. "And no one else knows of this?"

She shook her head slowly, still gazing at me. "Azmus discovered it by accident. Rode two days to reach me. I did send him…"

Something flashed in her eyes – regret and remorse, but I only faintly noticed it. Everything she said – her hurt, her pain, it chipped away at my heart, but I couldn't let it reach my gut. Now, more than ever, more than before, I wished I had talked to her, understood her…here I was left with nothing but love and instinct – no knowledge. I took a deep, shaky breath, tried my best to ignore my feelings and focused on the facts in front of me.

I prayed with all my heart that my decision wasn't the end.

I looked at her, a sour taste in my mouth, before forcing a smile to my face. "Brace up. We're not about to embark on a duel to the death over the dishes." I paused, for once at a loss for words. What could I say? Something was good enough. I forced a light tone to my next sentence, to hide how much it meant to me. "Though most of our encounters until very recently have been unenviable exchanges, you have never lied to me. Eat. We'll leave before the next time-change, and part ways at the crossroads. 

She only into my eyes without a word, but her gratefulness tore through like a knife into my stomach, making me weak in the knees. She looked down, smoothing her clothes, and I could practically feel the tears prickling at her eyes. They made me feel utterly miserable, to know I had caused her this, and my next words were neither light nor careless, only flat.

"Why don't you set that cloak aside and eat something?"

To take my own mind off of my totally wretched feelings, I picked up my bowl and spoon and began to eat dutifully. This seemed to loosen her up, and she shrugged off her cloak, wiped her eyes, straightened and picked up her bowl.

We sat there for a short time, neither saying anything, my throat tight with tension and discomfort. Finally, I managed to work up the courage and soothe my fears enough to say something in a semi-natural tone. "Don't you have any questions for me?"

She glanced up at me, posed to have another spoonful. "Or course. But I thought – " at that moment, she waved her hand, forgetting about the food. As it went flying and splattered onto the table, I couldn't help a smirk coming to my face. She quickly mopped it up with her cloak and continued. "Well it doesn't matter what I thought. So you knew about the plot all along?"

"Pretty much from the beginning," I replied truthfully, "though the timing is different. I surmised they would make their move in the fall, but something seems to have precipitated action. My first warning was from Elenet, who found out a great from the Duke's servants. That was her real reason for coming to Court, to tell me herself."

"What about Flauvic?"

I almost winced at the name, and answered carefully, unconvinced, "It would appear that he is disassociated with the plan of his mother's."

"Was that the argument he alluded to?"

I did not need to ask when. "Perhaps. Though that might have been for effect. I can believe it only because it is uncharacteristic of him to lend himself to so stupid and clumsy a plan"

"Finesse," she drawled in my trade-mark accent. "He'd want finesse, and to make everyone look foolish."

I smiled slightly, half with the assurance that she did not have any attachment to who I had once assumed as my rival. But I wanted to hear it from her. "I am to understand you were not favorably impressed with Lord Flauvic?"

"As far as I'm concerned, he and Fialma are both thorns," she answered with typical passion, "though admittedly he is very pretty to look at. More so than his sour pickle of a sister. Anyway, I hope you aren't trusting him as far as you can lift a mountain, because I wouldn't."

I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the statement, for it was one I had been wanting to scream at her since the day I had hear of the kiss – and here she was saying it to me. Instead I answered objectively. "His house is being watched. He can't step outside without half a riding being within earshot."

"And he probably knows it," she said, grinning widely. "Last question, why are you riding alone? Wouldn't things be more effective with your army?"

"I move fastest alone," I replied, shrugging, "and my own people are in place, and have been for quite some time." I reached into my pouch and pulled out the summons-stone. "When I want them, I will summon them with this. Each riding has one. At the appropriate moment, we converge and, ah, convince the Marquise and her allies to accompany us back to Athanarel. It is the best way of avoiding bloodshed."

It was then the time-change rang. "What about the Denlieff warriors?" Mel asked.

"If their leaders are unable to give them orders, they will take orders from me."

She shook her head, recognizing the threat. "I'm glad I have the easy job. –Speaking of which…"

I smiled, simply to see her smile back. "There's a room adjacent. I suggest you change your clothes and ride dry for a time."

Before she could answer I rose, pulling back the tapestry and summoning the maid. When Mel was in the room, I took her sodden cloak and put it on, barely feeling the weight or dampness. In its place I lay my waterproof one, hoping she wouldn't be silly enough to refuse it. With that, I went on my way to 'convince' the Merindars.

I rode fast and determinedly, the only thing on my mind being to get to the Merindars and summon my ridings. I even consciously realized that this focus was partly due to the fact that I did not _want_ to think of the events that had just transpired. The cold, bitter irony was that only a day ago I had wanted nothing more than to see Mel and not worry about the greedy Marquise. Now, though, I was still shaking from my encounter with the very person I wished to see, and thinking of the Marquise to save me from the terrible distaste in the back of my mouth.

The only thing I did concerning Mel was to send nine ridings to follow her on her own quest, for I was sure she couldn't to it alone. After they had aided her (keeping in contact with me) they were to take their time, but come back to meet me in a designated area.

I rode three days like this, through terrible weather, keeping in contact with my ridings and making sure they were a comfortable distance to me – enough to converge at the proper moment. The rain came at random intervals, and the food began tasting just as soggy as the weather. 

It wasn't until I spied, down in a half-valley, an assortment of tents and horses, with quite an army to accompany them. The Merindars. They seemed to be ill-educated for battle, for I was practically on top of them, and they couldn't see me. That, or they were too confident in their victory.

I rode west for a few minutes, until I reached a sort of forest. Pulling out the summons-stone, I communicated with all of my ridings within the decided radius, telling them to pull in slowly to my position. Once we had all gathered, I had only to motion for the 'persuasion' to begin.

We took them completely by surprise, and there was no pretense of a resistance, only a folding of troops and commanders. I myself picked Fialma right up over the ground, and onto my horse, and talked to the rest of the camp, 'convincing' them it was probably in their best interest to follow what we said.

We ended up with a gaggle of commanders: Fialma, , the Denlieff wings commander, Barons Chaskar and Hunarev, Baroness Orgaliun, two mercenary captains and the Denlieff wing commander.

Fialma, still slung across my saddle, suddenly forcefully pushed a cup into my hands. I looked at it for a second, first incredulous and then amused. With one slight movement, the liquid inside it spilled had onto the ground, and the cup broken. "Next time," I said lightly, "I would think it best if you drank your own poison."

 I then looked around, and realized the most important pieces of the puzzle were missing.

"Where are the Marquise and her dear friend Grumareth, exactly?"

One of my riders supplied half of an answer. "Grumareth is nowhere to be found. Probably scampered home."

I gave a half smile. "Perhaps we should then extend our courtesy to his front door." After dispatching a troop, I was brought back to my original question. "And what of the Marquise?"

At that moment one of the riders came up, carrying the object in question on his horse. His face was darkened and frustrated, and I felt a twinge of that same feeling in my chest. As I rode up to meet him, my eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 

"She took poison – we were too late to give an antidote."

Probably the rest of Fialma's share. My voice was a controlled sort of sardonic, "She seems to be quite capable of putting innocents in prison, and it's a wonder why she cannot do the same for a guilty soul like herself." I paused, "You know what to do with her, I trust?"

 The man first smiled and then nodded. 

I then began to rummage through the commanders being held captive; sending the mercenaries home, and giving 'special treatment' to each of the lovely individuals we had rounded up. Almost as soon as I was finished dealing with some of my favorite people, the summons-stone began to glow.

It was the wing commander of  my nine ridings, the one I had dispatched to Mel. Despite myself, my heart tightened at the anticipation of the news I was about to hear. 

"Report," I said as evenly as I could.

The man was half-smiling in disbelief. "The lady was right. Kinthus in every wagon – and there were twenty of them. She was about to fight all forty of the drivers too, before we arrived," my heart skipped a beat before he continued. "We took the wagons from them, and dealt with the prisoners."

I nodded. "Good. Now, if you would, take Lady Meliara to an inn and have her sleep – at least two candles. Do not let her get up, even if she struggles – which she could if she's insanity strikes her – until that time is up. Then you may ride to meet us – thank you, commander."

He nodded, containing his laugh in a smile, and the summons-stone faded away.

_Twenty wagons_?!

____________

We arrived at the armed campgrounds before the nine ridings containing Mel did, and set up our own tents. I waited all that day for the ridings to show up, but it was almost sure they wouldn't arrive until the next day. The problem wasn't in the ridings; it was now in my courier, arranged by my parents to send news each day, and she had not arrived yet. She was by now only two candles late, but something was stirring in me, making me tense – even the bets made on how many wagons Mel _could_ have defeated (for word had gotten round) only served to agitate me more.

The next day was busier than the first – and the courier had still not come. I went into the converse tent, dressed in Remalna's green and gold, a commanders plumed helm under my arm. Immediately I was ushered to sit on a cushion, and was attacked by five different people on what to do about the millions of problems they seemed to have. I gently lay the helm on the table beside me, and put on my most diplomatic expression – but anyone who knew me well could see the tense worry at the edges –and not only for the courier. 

Scribes and pages were rushing everywhere, picking up swords and shields, taking down supplies, and there was a constant chatter. I listened to the men with half of my brain, but violet eyes kept appearing in the other. As soon as she appeared, I knew what I planned to do. I needed to do it, finally, and after everything it seemed right…but _Life_…

Mentally straightening my wandering, I swiftly gave the orders the men were looking for, fighting the urge to rub my eyes and bang my fist against the table several times. They bowed and left, and I turned round into a more comfortable position – 

To see her standing there.

Involuntarily, my face immediately relaxed as my heart rose up to my throat for about the thousandth time in her presence, my limbs felt like water. The room went quiet at their arrival, and, steadying my emotions, I rose up to meet them. With an eyebrow raised, I asked the question I had been waiting to ask for the entire day. "_Twenty_ wagons, lady Meliara?"

She shrugged and looked away, as embarrassed as I was oddly amused.

"We have a wager going," I continued, "How many, do you think, would have been too many for you to take on single-handed?" I did not bother to tell her I found it somehow terrifying to bet on how many she could have defeated without being killed.

"My thinking was this," she said with forced casualty, and even worse attempt than mine. 'Two of them could trounce me as easy as twenty wagons' worth. The idea was to talk them out of trying. Luckily Nessaren and the rest of the wing arrived when they did, or I suspect I soon would have been part of the road."

My mouth was controlled, by my eyes spilled forth with uncontained joy and love. I almost reddened at my demeanor, for it was easy to see where my affection lay – and had always lay. "That won't do, my lady. I am very much afraid if you're going to continue to attempt heroic measures you will have to make suitably heroic statements afterward – "

"If there is an afterward" she interjected, and I fought against a surge of laughter – someone in the crowd couldn't help themselves as I could and burst out in it.

"-such are written in the finest of our histories."

"Huh," she exhaled. "I guess I'll just have to memorize a few proper heroic bombasts rhymed in three places, for next time. And I'll also remember to take a scribe to get it all down right."

I laughed, attempting to release the tension – in fact, everyone in the tent did, much more than I suspected the joke deserved. We were all tired from our journey, and I suppose everyone knew of the missing courier.

She then unclasped my cloak and handed it over. "I'm sorry," she said, bending her head downwards to avoid my eyes – something I wished she wouldn't do. "Got a bit muddy."

I did my best to sling it over my shoulder casually, and offered her a drink, motioning to a cushion. A young cadet came forward with a tray and steaming coffee. She took a cup and began sipping slowly. As she did, everyone began to file out of the tent, and I almost shamed myself to blushing – for if their miraculous disappearance to leave us alone did not seem contrived, then Mel was blind.

Drawing up all my courage for what I knew was sooner or later going to happen, I turned to face her. "Questions?"

"Of course!" she answered, "What happened?"

I moved to sit across from her, preparing myself further. "Took 'em by surprise," I answered. "That part was easy enough. The worst of it has been the aftermath."

"You captured the commanders, then. The Marquise and – "

I supplied the rest, "her daughter, two mercenary captains, the two sellout garrison commanders, the Denlieff wing commander, Barons Chaskar and Hunarev, and Baroness Orgaliun, to be precise. Grumareth's nowhere to be found, my guess is that he got cold feet and scampered for home. If so, he'll find some of my people waiting for him.

"So the Marquise is a prisoner somewhere?" she asked, looking as if the idea suited  her – and after all the woman had done to her, I couldn't blame her. Because of this my grimace was more than just show. 

"No, she took poison. A constitutional inability to suffer reverses, apparently. We didn't find out until too late. Fialma," I added dryly, remembering her little show, "tried to give her share to me."

"That must have been a charming scene."

"It took place at approximately the same time you were conversing with your forty wagoneers." I smiled a little, yet again trying to brace myself. "since then I have dispatched the real mercenaries homeward, unpaid, and sent some people to make certain they get over the border. What they do in Denlieff is their rulers problem. Fialma is on her way back – under guard –to Sles Adran, where I suspect she'll become a permanent royal Court pest. The Denlieff soldiers are keeping in garrison until the ambassador can squeeze an appropriate trade agreement from his soon-to-be apologetic king and queen. The two sellouts were executed, and I have trusted people combing through the rest to find out who was coerced and who not."

"Half will be lying of course."

"More," I answered immediately. "It's bad business, and complete justice is probably a dream. But word will get out, and I hope it won't be so easy to raise such a number again."

She sighed, relieved. "Then the Merindar threat is over."

"I sincerely hope so." I said it automatically, and it was the truth, but I did not believe her own statement. Something was stirring in me…

She saw through me. "You don't sound convinced."

"I confess I'll feel more convinced when the courier from Athanarel gets here."

"Courier?"

"Arranged with my parents. Once a day, even if the word was 'no change.' Only she's late."

"How late?" she asked without too much alarm. "The rain was bad yesterday – "

"A day."  I interrupted, and she paled slightly.

"Oh, but surely if there was a problem, someone would either send a runner or come in person."

"That's the most rational way to consider it," I answered, but again I was not completely convinced.

"And of course you sent someone to see if something happened to the expected courier? I mean something ordinary, like the horse threw a shoe, or the courier fell and sprained her leg?"

I nodded, but I didn't want to think about it much further. "I'll wait to the end of blue and make a decision then." I looked up at her, a chill going through my spine, my mind whirring. If there was a time, it had to be now. I purposely took the drawl out of my voice and said, "In the meantime, do have any more questions for me?"

I did not need to worry that she would not get my point. She first relaxed and then tensed, drawing a deep breath. "No questions. But I have apologies to make. I think, well, I _know_ that I owe you some explanations. For things I said. And did. Stupid things…"

I held up my hand, because to hear more of her beautiful words from her beautiful mouth only made my stomach flip, and my courage waver high then low. 'Before you proceed any further…" I began, amazed words could come out of my mouth, and I began thinking of all the times her interest – at least in the Unknown – was clear, all of Russav's encouragement, and what she did once I mentioned the goldenwood throne. We _belonged_ – and I had spent too much time hiding it from her.

I gave her an apologetic half-smile and began to pull off my gloves, one finger at a time. Once I had pulled off the left one I said to her in a surprisingly steady voice, "This might be one of the more spectacular or _my_ mistakes –" with a last tug, I pulled off the right glove, revealing at last her ring on my finger – and I suddenly felt naked.

I turned back to face her, doing my best to breathe. Her face was one of utter shock. "That's my ring."

"You had it made," I replied, "but now it's mine."

She stood there, and I swear on everything I know I could read her mind. Realization was in her eyes, and he could not speak. She was both horrified and – _life –_ relieved. My throat was refusing to swallow, and my mind had shut down. I couldn't say anything – and I didn't believe there words that belonged to that moment.

After a time, I forced thought into my brain and pushed words out from my mouth. "It is time" I began, hoping my voice wasn't shaking, "to collect my wager."

I moved slowly, so utterly unsure of what I was about to do that I felt like a child. It was so terrifying, but I was so violently in love with the woman in front of me, and so filled with regrets of lost time that I _could_ not stop, despite the uncertainties. Almost by themselves my fingertips slid around her waist. The contact felt like a dizzying, wonderful blow to my head.

 A stray hair brushed my cheek, and the blow hit me harder, my heart beating like death and stomach churning upside down. Hesitantly, I brushed my lips first against her brow, and then along her eyes, and finally to her lips. My lips reached hers lightly once, twice and three times, and I, saturated with pleasure and wonder, was too afraid to go further. I was glowing and her lips felt like fire to mine, but I could not tell…

It was then that she wrapped her fingers around my neck, and, sending a fierce shudder through my body, pulled me into her. The fire exploded into my head, and bliss seeped through my every pore. She was kissing _me_, kissing me with all the passion I had ever dreamed of, in my arms…her mouth like rain after days in the sun.

Life…_life…_we _belonged._

**A/N: Okay…I really loved that chapter. I hope it was worth the wait.  **


	6. The Flower

A/N: Well guys. Last chapter. Hard to believe, I know :) I'm truly sorry this took so long, but I had it finished, and then it got deleted. It took me a while to get back the energy I had before to write it all over again. Plus, I'm going to Florida tomorrow night, so I was focusing on that. This thing also pushed back my schedule for Aviahnna, but I HAVE NOT ABANDONNED ANYTHING. I'm the type of person that likes to finish what I started, and it's especially impossible to abandon a story I absolutely love. Who knows though…I may be able to finish an entire chapter of Aviah tomorrow morning…(it's 12 Pm right now on Thursday….I really wanted to get this done). Though I doubt anything like that will happen :) Anyway, enjoy the chapter! And hopefully when I get back from the trip, Aviah will be updated.

Chapter 6: The Flower

After what seemed to be merely a flicker, I was forced to withdraw from our kiss, hearing the pounding of hooves outside the tents. It was only with a flash of irritability that I, with ragged breath, stood straight to face a courier, emerging into the tent from outside. It was the one I had sent to find out where my first courier had disappeared to.

"You said to return if I found Keira, or if I saw anything amiss," he gasped out.

"And?" I provoked as patiently as I could.

The man looked tired and worn, rubbing his eyes. "Streets are empty," he said, "Arrived…second-gold. Ought to have been full. No one out. Not a dog or a cat. No sign of Keira, either. Didn't try to speak to anyone. Turned around, rode back as fast as I could."

Thoroughly puzzled, I extended my sympathy to the man. "Good. You did the right thing. Go to the cook tent and get something to eat. You're off duty."

He bowed and left, dragging his feet.

Although puzzled about why it was happening, I knew what I had to do. I looked across to Mel, in doing so feeling both confused and elated by what had just happened between us. But it must wait; as much as I wished I could hold everything. "Ready for a ride?"

________

While I was ready for one, my troops were far from it, as it turned out. I spent until sundown organizing and entrusting details, when Mel and I could finally ride into the city.

It's odd, how whenever you expect and look forward to something, it turns out so much different then you imagined. I had been anticipating the ride from the moment it was proposed, and now that it was occurring, I could barely think of a greeting to her, alone. Nor did I have any inclination to try. I was suddenly overwhelmed by _certain_ events, and I could only resign myself into reflection.

Most of that reflection entailed wondering what Mel was thinking at this moment.

To both my satisfaction and discomfort, I discovered I probably already knew the answer to the pondering. She was recalling all our friction, and blaming herself every step of the road. I could read it in her eyes, in her mouth.

We stopped at the same inn as previous, the one that, ironically, could have told our entire story in one hallway. Our first meeting, the latest, and now this. We were lead into a large room, whereupon we sank immediately into the cushions. I regarded her carefully, losing myself in everything she was. She was distraught, completely miserable at the moment, and it twisted my heart. She glanced up to see me staring, and I smiled at her, not one of lies anymore, or secrets – it was a smile I had been waiting to give her since the moment I feel for her.

"I knew it," I said, "I knew that by now you would have managed to see everything as your fault, and you'd be drooping under the weight."

"Why did you do it?" she asked, weakly laughing as a filler, "as near as I can see I've been about as pleasant to be around as an angry bee swarm."

Memories filled my mind, some that I would never want to experience again. "At times," I managed to say, "but I take our wretched beginning as my own fault. I merely wanted to intimidate you – and through you, your brother – into withdrawing from the field. What I mess you made of my plans! Every single day I had to re-form them. I'd get everyone and everything set on a new course, and you'd manage to hare off and smash it to shards again, all with the best of motives, and actions as gallant as I'd ever seen, from man or woman." She groaned as I smiled, but I couldn't seem to stop. "By the time I realized I was going to have to figure you into the plans, you were having none of me, or them. At the same time, you managed to win everyone you encountered – save the Merindars – to your side."

"I understand about the war. And I even understand why you had to come to Tlanth," she sighed, "but that doesn't explain the letters."

I drew a deep breath. Exactly how many times had I wanted that question posed, imagined my answer? Countless times. I soon discovered that the fact did not make my heart beat any slower, or my mind stop whirring. "I think I fell in love with you the day you stood before Galdran in the throne room, surrounded by what you thought were enemies, and glared at him without a trace of fear." I paused, letting the feel of that day sink into me like the sun, her image imprinted in my mind soaking through the crevices of my mind, saturating me with taste, sound and smell. My mind then turned to the event that had me floored into absolute shock. "I knew it when you sat across from me at you table in Tlanth and argued so passionately about the fairest way to disperse an army, with no other motive but testing your theories. It also became clear to me on that visit that you showed one face to all the rest of the world, and another to me. But after you had been at Athanarel for a week, Russav insisted that my cause was not hopeless. 

"Savona? How did he know?"

"You'd have to address that question to him."

She rubbed her eyes, putting one more piece together. "So his flirtation _was_ false."

I paused, gathering my words. "I asked him to make you popular. – Though he will assure you he found the task thoroughly enjoyable." I almost smirked dryly, thinking of the times when I was downright jealous that he could so easily display his affections, while I, half-sick with love, had to resign myself to a letter. "I wanted your experience at Court to be as easy as possible. Your brother just shrugged off the initial barbs and fronts, but I knew they'd slay you. We did our best to protect you from them, but your handling of the situation with Tamara showed us you were very capable of directing your own affairs.

"What about Elenet?"

That one caught me off guard. What, exactly, did Elenet have to do with my affection to her, or her experience at Court? "What about her?"

"People – some people – put your names together," she stammered, "And…she'd make a good queen. Better than I."

She couldn't _possibly_ think…It took me a minute to gain a better understanding of what she was saying to me. I lifted the cup to my lips, watching her ring on my finger. What did she think? That I loved Elenet? That Elenet was in love with _me_? "Elenet," I began," is an old friend. We regard one another as brother and sister, a comfortable arrangement since neither of us had siblings."

 I saw her eyes darken, and her lips purse, but for once I could not read what she was thinking, so I simply continued. "She spent her time as a mute warning to the Merindars, who had to know that she came to report on Grumareth's activities, and I didn't want them trying any kind of retaliation. She realized that our social proximity would cause gossip. That was inevitable. But she heeded it not; she just wants to return to Grumareth and resume guiding her lands to prosperity again." 

I paused, thinking of Mel's claim that Elenet would be a better queen – which I completely disagreed with. Mel was different than any lady –any person I had every met. Different, in so many ways, from _me_. I could never be what she was, but it was a pursuit I would relish. I looked her straight in the eye.

 "As for her quality, it is undeniable. But I think the time has come for a different perspective, one that is innate in you. It is a problem, I have come to realize, with our Court upbringing. No one, including Elenet, has the gift you have of looking every person you encounter in the face and accepting the person behind the status We all were raised to see servants and merchants as faceless as we pursued the high strategy. I'm half convince this is part of the reason why the kingdom ended up in the grip of the likes of the Merindars."

She nodded, and I felt overwhelmed by the amount of understanding, of _reality_ in her eyes. Swallowing, she asked the question I had been waiting for. "The goldenwood throne. In the letter. I thought you had it ordered for, well, someone else."

I turned serious, remembering my gamble. "It doesn't yet exist. How could it? Though I intend for there to be one, for the duties of ruling have to begin as a partnership. Until the other night, I had no idea if I would win you or not."

He face broke into a smile, "Win me," she repeated mockingly, "what a contest!"

I smiled back at her, but I was mentally preparing myself to explain to her what had been going through my head at every moment that I had seen her. Previously, I thought this would be easy, but now that it was staring me in the face I was finding it hard to think. I continued with caution. "I was beginning to know you through the letters, but in person you showed me that same resentful face." I shook my head, remembering, "Life! That day you came into the alcove looking for histories, I was sitting there writing to you. What a coil!"

As she laughed, I noted the irony in her tone, the slight cringe in her eyes, and drove on ahead, doing my best not get distracted. "But I took the risk of mentioning the throne as a somewhat desperate attempt to bridge the two. When you stopped writing and walked around for two days looking lost, it was the very first sigh that I had any hope." Life! That gamble seemed so long ago, so far away and so far apart from what had just happened hours ago. It began to seem like the hours I wasted pining could have been spent writing the words 'golden wood throne'. 

"Meanwhile you had all this to deal with," she waved her hand towards the north, implicating the plots of my _dearest_ Marquise.

I smirked, knowing full well I thought more about her every hour than I did of the Marquise each day – trying to avoid thinking how that folly could have truly hurt me in the end. I replied evenly yet ironically, "it was a distraction."

She looked away, presumably thinking of our past – of my shortcomings? Life, I hoped not. We had our downfalls –a good many, in fact, but I couldn't imagine never looking into those eyes again for the rest of my life. If she changed her mind, it would be more than just 'a chunk of me missing' or some other equally clichéd scentence, more than my very breath taken away, or the reason I woke up every day. I would be ripped, torn, massacred, tortured, bleeding on the floor. And I'd only kissed her twice. Life, would she be a good queen, if she could do this to _me_.

She looked up to see me staring, yet again, and, surprisingly, words came to me. "The throne won't be ordered until you give the word. You need time to decide if this is the life you want." _Please_. "Of all the women I know you've the least interest in rank for the sake of rank."

She countered my intenseness with a smile. "The direct result of growing up a bare-foot countess.

I grinned back, concealing a sense of doom inside me. But it _had_ to be done, one way or another. I took her hands in mine. "Which brings us to a piece of unpleasant news that I have not known how to broach."

"Unpleasant? –Oh, can't it wait?" she exclaimed, 

"If you wish," I said reluctantly, for it had taken an act of bravery to even mention it.

She frowned, switching stances. "and leave you with the burden? Tell me, if the telling eases it."

I grimaced at her words. "I don't know that anything can ease it, but it is something you wanted to know but couldn't find out."

I winced as her expression turned pale with realization. "My mother?"

"Your mother," I drew out, my hands still clasped firmly in hers, wishing I could do something more than be a messenger of the news, "apparently was learning sorcery. For the best of motives – to help the kingdom, and to prevent war. She was selected by the Council of Mages to study magic. Her books came from Eidervaen. Apparently the Marquise found out when she was there to try and find a Sartoran marriage alliance. She sent a courier to apprise her brother."

"And he had her killed." I had been avoided looking at her, but now I couldn't help myself. As I saw her glistening eyes the surge of emotion from inside me almost overwhelmed my mind. "And Papa knew about the magic. Which must be why he burned the books."

"And why he neglected your education, for he must have feared that you would inherit her potential for magic-learning. Anyway, I found the Marquise's letter among Galdran's things last year. I did not know how to tell you – how to find the right time, or place." The last part was more of a desperate apology than an explanation. 

"And I could have found out last year, if I'd not run away." She took a deep breath, shaking only slightly. "Well. Now I know. Shall we get on with our task?"

Recovering from my astonishment at her strength, I replied, "Are you ready for another ride?"

"Of course."

Looking into her eyes, I didn't resist an urge and kissed each of her hands softly, taking in the scent of her skin, in bliss from even the slight touch. Perhaps I hadn't exactly recovered from her strength.

"Then let's address the business before us," I continued, "I hope and trust we'll have the remainder of our lives to talk all this over and compare misguided reactions, but for now…" I took a deep breath, both standing up and pulling her to her feet, hand in hand. …"Shall we agree to a fresh beginning?"

She tightened her hold on my hands. "Agreed."

I smiled without thought. "Then let me hear my name from you, just once, before we proceed further. My name, not any of the titles."

"Vidanric," she proclaimed and it was impossible not to smile so broadly my cheeks hurt, excited. Yet again, without thought, I kissed her strongly, laughing impulsively as I drew back., and we continued as if everything was the same. But it wasn't – I was better than I had been in weeks.

The subjects I thought over on our ride to Remalna were unvaried, revolving around two subjects. Mel was obviously one, but there was another, more ominous feeling. There was something very wrong at our destination, and a ringing straight through my bones resounded at the thought of it. 

Nothing prepared me for what was to come.

As we came to the city, nothing seemed to be amiss – it was a bright day, the sky glistening above the streets. There were no blood-curdling screams of agony, or thunderous booms. It was silent. On examination, this was exactly the problem. It was a beautiful day, yet all the shutters were closed and nobody was out in the streets.

As we reached Athanarel, I looked toward the castle, and a shock hit me with so much force I felt as if all my nerves had been pinched. A strange humming  - or was it singing? – Echoed through me ears, and I felt faint. For standing where guards should have been were white statues that replicated them. 

As we walked through the gates, the noise in my ears increased, and I felt like screaming, though I was too choked to even try. The oddness of my surroundings was too overwhelming. Remalna was completely and utterly frozen. Excepting us, not a breath was being drawn in the entire city. 

We slowed out mounts as we reached the larch doorway leading in from the Royal gardens, dismounting as we walked through to the Throne Room. 

And it suddenly hit me.

This was no mysterious force, no event of nature. It was _Flauvic_. It had always _been_ Flauvic. His mother's self-serving plans, with all their grandeur, and his unassuming position…all had collaborated to lead up to this _one_ point. And what a _fool_ I was for not seeing it.

I was temporarily blinded by how light the outside had been, and did not immediately see my surroundings. There were three or four white statues, eerily standing unmoving in places where I had seen true people stand.

And then there was Flauvic, moving his hands quite fluidly as he sat on the throne.

"What took you so long, my dear cousin Vidanric?" he drawled as the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

"Administrative details," I replied, trying to keep the magic that saturated the air from blurring my vision.

Flauvic exerted himself to make a polished, ironic bow on the throne he seemingly had claimed for his own. "For which I thank you. Tiresome details." He glanced flippantly over to Mel as a felt myself tense. His voice was sharp, "Meliara. This is a surprise; I took you for a servant."

She grinned easily, "You have an objection to honest work?"

He smiled slightly, but still rather aloof, waving a languid hand at me, "This I hadn't foreseen. And it's a shame. I'd intended to waken you for some diversion, when things were settled."

I bit the inside of my lip raw at the sick thought of what would have become of us had we been right where he had wanted us. "You included sorcery among your studies in Nente?" I asked.

Flauvic seemed laid back and confident. "I did," he replied, stretching, "SO much easier and neater than troubling oneself with tiresome allies and brainless lackeys."

I felt my lip begin to curl at his next words. "I take it you wish to forgo the exchange of niceties and proceed right to business. Very well." He rose with as much arrogance as before and began bargaining a country that was not rightfully his. "Athanarel serves as a convenient boundary. I have everyone in under this stone-spell. I spent my time at Meliara's charming entertainment the other night ascertaining where everone of remotest value to you would be the next day, and I have my people with each right now. You have a choice before you. Cooperate with me – obviating need for tedious efforts that can be better employed elsewhere – or else, one by one, they will suffer the same fate as our erstwhile friend here."

It was then that I noticed with horror that the statue nearest to me was in fact the Duke of Grumareth, frozen in a stance that indicated a plea for life. I felt my stomach churn, and I fought from letting it show on my face. 

I could not help a wince, even for this man, when Flauvic extracted a knife from his attire, jabbing it into the statue and making it shatter, crumbling to the floor.

And he just smiled. "That will be a nasty mess when I do lift the spell. But then we won't have to see it, will we?"

My knees almost buckled the implications hit me. I briefly thought of my friends, my mother, my father…could I really afford to take the chance and oppose him? I did not have much time to ponder, for a sense Meliara, always quick to anger, stepping forward in an aggressive stance.

My heart pace quickened even further, wishing her no harm. "Meliara," I said quickly, making sure keep my eye on Flauvic. "Don't. He knows how to use that knife.

The bastard's smile widened, as ones usually does when in perfect control. "Observant of you," he whispered, saluting. "I worked so hard to foster the image of the scholarly recluse. When did you figure out that my mother's plans served as my diversion?" 

"As I was walking in here," I replied evenly, "recent events have precluded the luxury of time for reflection."

He simply turned to Meliara for another jab. "I fault no one for ambition. If you wish, you may gracefully exit now and save yourself some regrettably painful experience. I like you. Your ignorance is refreshing, and your passions amusing. For a time we could keep each other company."

I fought to keep red hot contempt from rising in me. He was a court gentry, he was used to considering people as toys for his refreshment, amusement and company. I suppose so was I. But not _her._ She was _not_ his toy. I pinned my lips together, waiting for Mel to reply.

She did not disappoint.

Drawling with a slightly unpolished accent, she rebutted, "Unfortunately, I find you boring."

It was not a colossal insult, nor was it a great one, but it was enough to make the color come to the fool's cheeks, and I felt my agitation decreases. It did not last long.

Finished with his alternating barb to Mel, he turned once more to me, it voice now serious, rather than playful, though it maintained its lazy, bored tone. "Well? There is much to be done, and very soon your militia leaders will be here clamoring for orders. We'll need to begin as we mean to go on, which means _you _must be the one to convince them of the exchange of kings." And he smiled again – this time with victory.

Everything around me disappeared when he face me with the decision. I did not look as him, I did not look at her; I bowed my head to the floor and prayed with myself. What could I _possibly_ do? Kill my people trying to fight him, or let him starve them slowly with his terrifying rule after admitting defeat. The strange humming in my ears did not help matters.

Suddenly, I heard Meliara's voice. "What'll happen to us?"

What…

"Well, my dear Meliara, that depends," I heard his disgusting voice.

"Maybe I'll change my mind…" she mumbled.

I whipped my head up to glare at her. _What_ was she _doing_. Was she trying to take the burden on herself? Or…or was it something else? "Will you save Branaric and Nimiar from being smashed if I – " And she stopped.

Flauvic's suspicion was inherent in his voice, and I realized there was something she knew that I didn't. "Why the sudden effect of cowardice?" His eyes were narrowed.

It was at that moment that the humming became something tangible – something movig, and towards us. I felt a faint vibration at my feet.

"For a time," she said, "look outside."

As all three of us ran to the window, Flauvic pushing past first, I witnessed one of the most eerie sights of my life. The air was _rippling_. Rippling in gold's, in waves all over and there was a smell mixed with a sound that spun my head around.

The Hill-folk were coming. Hundreds of them.

For the one second that Flauvic's mouth tightened, I felt triumph. "This is _your_ work!," he screamed at Mel.

Before I could react he had her tightly in his arms, his knife point at her ear. I had drawn my sword, but it was too late. Oh _life_. Oh, what a _fool_. I was shaking more than this encounter had made me before, and as she squirmed I felt my heart fail.

"Tell them to vanish," he said to me, "Or she dies."

"Don't do it!" she yelled, trying to wrench away as he tightened his hold. 

The rest was a complete blur. I felt the creatures approaching as the vibrations became tremors and the tremors evolved into ground-shaking booms. Flauvic retreated to the dais, Mel in hand, as I was torn. "Tell them _now_!" he screeched, his voice cracking, but it was then I knew I had him.

The ground began to shake further until the stone started chipping, crumbling and shattering, and before my eyes, Flauvic began to transform. He glowed a brilliant but indiscernible color, and then roots erupted from his feet, branches from his arms, as the tree exploded up to the ceiling.

And then it ceased.

There was no movement, no sound. Only the disturbing image of a great tree growing from marble. A grand, goldenwood tree.

It was then someone coughed, and I realized the statues had fleshed out. I turned , dizzy, to see one of the door attendants fall to her knees, gasping for breath, before she abruptly fell into what appeared to be a sleep. The guard beside her did much the same.

And the Hill-folk were gone.

It was done.

I great sigh of relief escaped my lips before I knew what I was doing. Also, without my consent, my eyes moved to stare at Meliara, my entire body weak with the mixture of fear, relief, and joy. I moved in and kissed her over and over, knowing only half of what had just happened.

But we had won.

A/N: Wow. It's over. Jeez…I feel so…complete now ;) Thanks SOOOOO much to my reviewers, even when it's taken me so long to update. I've decided  not to do that mini-story in the back of the Firebird copy…I think it's nice to leave something for the imagination. Or, if I DO end up doing it, it would take a lot of persuasion. Anyway, I very much hope you enjoyed this story, and that you will continue to read my other works. A new fanfiction _may_ be in the works, but so far, it'll be a surprise! 

**THANK YOU!!!!**


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